



















BEAVER CREEK FARM 


J 




I 



As m . 



J J- 



“Now, young fellow, we’ll go ashore.” 

[Page 135.] 





BEAVER CREEK 
FARM 


By 

EDWARD W. TOWNSEND 

li 

AUTHOR OF 

“CHIMMIE FADDEN AND MAJOR MAX,” ETC. 



NEW YORK 

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
1907 





COr^ESS 
Iwo CoDies Received 

SEP 13 I9(V 


jTtTpj 

CUSS/4 XXc., No. 



Copyright, 1907, by 
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 


Published September, 1907 


TO 

FREDERICK B. LAKE, Jr. 

WHO STANDS WELL WITH HIS BOOKS; 

IS MODEST AND BRAVE; AND WHO HAS SO 
WELL DISPOSED OF HIS ELEVEN YEARS OF LIFE 
THAT HE CAN SWIM FAST, SHOOT STRAIGHT, AND WALK 
FAR UP THE CANONS WHERE THE QUAIL CALL COAX- 
INGLY, AND OVER THE MOUNTAINS WHERE 
THE SHY DEER ARE— THIS BOOK IS 
DEDICATED BY HIS AFFECTION- 
ATE AND OBEDIENT UNCLE, 

THE AUTHOR 


Montclair, 1907. 



CONTENTS 


PAGE 

I. — Off for the Farm 1 

II. — Orrhy Rights Things 8 

III. — A Queer Quarrel 19 

IV. — The Boys Find a Cave 31 

V. — Real War 39 

VI. — ^Washington’s Orderly: Scudder ... 51 

VII. — The Terrible Tomahawk 63 

VIII. — The Haunted Tree’s Treasure .... 74 

IX. — Duelists and Smugglers 82 

X. — A Threatening Cloud 95 

XI. — ^The Party 104 

XII. — Orrey Tackles a Burglar 116 

XIII. — ^The Empty Canoe 125 

XIV. — Kidnapped 133 

XV. — The Night Fight 143 

XVI. — A Free Circus 154 

XVII. — ^The Bareback Ride 162 

XVIII. — Cathy Discovers a Secret 171 

XIX. — ^The Elopement 183 

XX. — ^A Moonlight Exodus 195 

XXI. — ^The Great Football Game 205 

XXII. — Closing Exercises 221 

vii 


» 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


FACING . 
PAGE 

Now, young fellow, we’ll go ashore” . . Frontispiece 

Blindly, his arms going Uke a windmill . . . . 28 

Dig, Imps, Dig!’” 78 

Orrey and Len were weak with laughter at all this free 

circus . 160 




r 


BEAVER CREEK FARM 


CHAPTER I 

OFF FOR THE FARM 

A GENTLEMAN, smiling brightly and 
looking as if the last thing in the world 
he would reveal was that he had any- 
thing to feel sad about ; a lady who looked as if 
she were near to crying and didnT care who 
knew it ; a lad, eleven years of age, or so, tearful 
and cheerful by turns ; a servant in livery, look- 
ing indifferent to the whole world, walked down 
the Grand Central Station and boarded a train 
which was about ready to start. The gentleman 
tipped the car porter and gave cigars to the con- 
ductor; the servant deposited a traveling bag 
before a seat ; and the lady repeated cautions and 
instructions to the boy. 

‘‘ All aboard ! ” sang the conductor from the 
outside, and the porter warned the lady and 
1 


BEAVER CREEK FARM 

gentleman that if they were not going they 
should leave the car. But the boy had to be 
once more hugged and kissed by father and 
mother, to which he responded with diminishing 
bravery. On the opposite side of the aisle sat 
a notably pretty young lady, intently reading a 
book, to whom the mother now turned with a 
sudden assumption of smiles, and said, “ My 
little boy — I mean my son — is traveling alone 
for the first time. Would you be kind 
enough ” 

“ Lady ! ” called the porter, “ if you don’t get 
off mighty sudden you can’t get off till Pough- 
keepsie.” 

The mother thrust a card into the young lady’s 
hand, saying, even as the gentleman hurried her 
from the car, “You understand? Thank you, 
oh, ever so much ! ” 

“ Certainly, madam,” replied the young lady, 
scarcely raising her eyes from her book. She 
put the card into her reticule without looking at 
it and resumed her reading. 

The train slowly drew out ; the boy saw, some- 
what mistily, through his window his father and 
mother waving good-bys to him, and he thought 
2 


OFF FOR THE FARM 


he saw the servant bestow a reassuring wink. 
Then he looked about with eager interest, saw 
that he was the only young gentleman of his 
age in the car, and was glad of it, as he did not 
feel like talking just then, hut wanted to enjoy 
this new experience alone. 

“ Now,” he said to himself, this is something 
like it, I say. No one to be telling you all the 
time not to do this and that, no governess feed- 
ing you useful information about the things you 
see out of the windows. This is traveling like a 
man, this is; and when a fellow gets to be as 
old as I am he should travel like a man, and do 
everything like a man.” 

He glanced over at the young lady, still deep 
in her book, and he smiled a smile which plainly 
said, “ Huh ! She look after me? Why, I could 
look after her, rather. She’s pretty, though, 
and I like pretty women. I’ll keep an eye on her, 
and if she needs any help I’ll give it to her. 
That’s what I’ll do.” 

Just then the conductor came along, calling. 

Tickets ! All tickets, please.” 

WTien he came to the boy’s chair he had a 
friendly smile as he said: 

3 


BEAVEE CEEEK FAEM 


Now, young man, your tickets, please.” 

The young man became crimson, and fidgeted 
about uncomfortably. 

‘‘All tickets, please,” repeated the conductor. 

“ My father had them,” the boy said. “ Didn’t 
he give them to you! ” 

“ He didn’t,” the conductor said, and added to 
himself, “ He was mighty busy giving me cigars, 
though. I wonder if this is a new trick to work 
a free ride! ” Then he added briskly, “ You can 
pay me your fare, and your father can get your 
tickets redeemed.” 

The boy took out his purse, opened it rue- 
fully, and handed the conductor its only con- 
tents — a dollar bill. 

“ Is this all you have ! ” the conductor asked. 

“ Yes, sir,” replied the boy. “ But take out 
for the fare. I’ll eat a light lunch.” 

“Yes, you’d eat a very light lunch on the 
change from this,” the conductor said with a 
laugh. 

This attracted the attention of the young 
lady, whose interest in her book had kept 
her from seeing until now that her unasked- 
for charge was in trouble. She crossed the 
4 


OFF FOR THE FARM 

aisle, beamed pleasantly on the boy, and 
asked : 

Oh, what is it, please? ” 

The conductor explained : fare and chair, 
he said, would be nine dollars. 

The boy gasped, and the young lady, too, 
looked as if she had heard dismal news. But 
she opened her purse, and her eyes fell on the 
card the boy’s mother had given her. Some- 
thing astonished her even more than the 
thought that she was expected to pay the 
‘‘ chair and fare.” 

“ Are you Mrs. Hulburt’s son ? ” she asked, 
looking from the card to the boy. “ Mrs. 
Orville Hulburt?” 

“ Yes, ma’am; I’m Orville Hulburt, Jr.,” and 
he took from his pocket a card which affirmed 
his name in finely engraved script. 

This quickly settled something in the young 
lady’s mind, for she paid the charges to the 
conductor, and said to Orville that the affair 
had revealed a coincidence ; she, too, was going 
not only to the same station, but was to visit 
the same house with him if, as she supposed, 
he was going to his grandfather, Cyrus Hul- 
5 


BEAVER CREEK FARM 


burt. Orville said he was, and she explained 
that she was going there to see if she would 
like to teach the district school. 

Orville opened his eyes wide at this ; he knew 
that his grandfather planned to have him re- 
main at Beaver Creek Farm for at least one 
term of the district school — to make a real boy 
of him, Squire Hulburt said. But in all his 
guesses as to what sort of a teacher he would 
have, he never pictured one in the least like 
the very pretty young lady now talking with 
him in such a jolly way. 

When lunch time came Orville frankly told 
her that he had only one dollar, but he asked 
her to take that and buy her lunch; he would 
keep his appetite for some of his grandmother’s 
pies, which he had heard all his life were better 
than any others in the world. Orville said this 
because he could not help seeing, when the 
young lady paid his fare, that there were only 
a few small coins left in her purse. But they 
were saved the discomfort of a meager lunch 
— and I hold that those who advocate light 
lunches are only confessing their dyspepsia — 
by the appearance of the conductor with the 
6 


OFF FOE THE FAEM 


money to repay the yoimg lady. He had re- 
ceived a dispatch at Poughkeepsie which ex- 
plained matters and ordered him to pass the 
young man along. 

And he must be a little swell,” the conduc- 
tor whispered to the young lady, “for the 
president of the road himself sent the mes- 
sage.” 

His agreeable companion told Orville that 
her name was Marion Bolton, and that she 
had just been graduated from a college where 
women are taught to be teachers, a statement 
which astonished him, for he had been in- 
structed by a governess who, he had heard his 
father say, didnT know enough about teaching 
to last her overnight, and Orville supposed 
that all teachers were alike. Orville and the 
young lady were soon chummy, and Orville 
observed that she was much unlike his govern- 
ess — especially in respect to her eyes and hair, 
which were not strong points with the govern- 
ess, though she had many, the palm of her 
hand being one, as her pupil recalled. 


2 


7 


CHAPTER II 


OKREY RIGHTS THINGS 

A t their station, Beaver Creek, our trav- 
elers had a disappointment, for Squire 
Hulburt was not there to meet them. 
Instead, a tall, thin man stood at the heads 
of a pair of horses, shouting over and over: 
Orville Hulburt ! Orville Hulburt ! ” 
‘^Well, what do you wantl’^ Orville asked, 
approaching the man. 

Want Orville Hulburt,” the man replied. 
If you’re Orville, I’m Scudder.” 

Oh, are you? ” the boy asked, eyeing the 
man with greater interest, for he had heard 
almost as much about Scudder as about his 
grandmother’s pies. ‘‘Well, Scudder, you’ve 
* got good lungs, anyway. Here’s the checks for 
Miss Bolton’s baggage and mine. Look sharp 
now, and get them aboard this trap.” 

8 


OEEEY EIGHTS THINGS 


Hearing this brave speech, Scudder laughed 
and exclaimed; 

“ No doubt about you being the Squire^s 
grandson — that’s the Squire’s talk, all over.” 

The Squire, Scudder explained, was apprais- 
ing a farm he thought of buying, so he could 
not meet the train. Fact is,” added Scudder, 
the Squire wants to own about all the land 
there is out of doors.” 

They were soon driving rapidly into the hills 
toward the Green Mountains, the road becom- 
ing steeper and the valley narrower as they 
progressed. They passed on their way more 
than one of those curious formations which give 
such decided character to the landscape — hills 
coming abruptly out of the plains, all having 
gradual slopes upon the east and bold, rugged 
cliffs on their western sides; one of nature’s 
pranks in spreading her blanket over the earth 
with which Orville was to become familiar in 
the most dramatic adventure of his life. 

Miss Bolton and Orville were silent because 
they were too interested in the scenery and life 
about them to want to talk; a fortunate thing, 
for Scudder talked incessantly. He told who 
9 


BEAVER CREEK FARM 


lived in each of the farmhouses passed, pointed 
out cider mills, sugar groves, the vast barns 
of the dairy farmers; called attention to the 
bunches of Morgan colts, and especially to the 
flocks of Merino sheep now and then seen in 
the pastures. He was so machinelike in these 
disclosures that it is not likely an interruption 
by either of his passengers would have stopped 
him; but finally he became quiet as the horses 
began to walk up the last hill leading to the 
plateau on which Beaver Creek Farm was situ- 
ated, and his passengers noticed that his back 
expressed some feeling which sent ripples of 
emotion up and down his long spine, and ended 
in final shakes of his head. At last he gave 
voice. 

Orville,” he said, not turning his head but 
speaking more slowly and intensely, “how’s 
Nelly? ” 

“ Nelly who?” inquired Orville in surprise. 

“ Guess you know your own mother,” com- 
mented Scudder by way of reply. 

“ Her name is Helen,” said the boy. 

“ Christened Helen; called Nelly,” said Scud- 
der calmly, and Orville reflected with a laugh 
10 


ORREY RIGHTS THINGS 


the amusement he saw in Miss Bolton’s merry 
eyes. 

“’Mamma is well. She sent some presents 
to you.” 

“ Well, where are they? ” Scudder demanded 
eagerly, turning around now. 

He was assured that the presents were in 
the trunk, and remained silent for the rest of 
the drive, speculating upon the nature of the 
presents from the woman upon whom he had 
been a faithful attendant when she was a tom- 
boy on a farm in the neighborhood, and for 
whom, as a fine city lady, he felt a loyalty of 
devotion which was almost worship. 

The road they traveled — still called the plank 
road, though its last plank rotted away half 
a century ago, and which was once the main 
highway to the distant seacoast — was rough, 
and deep with dust, and this made the con- 
trast more noticeable when Scudder turned into 
the private driveway of the Farm. This was 
level, graveled, clean, and bordered with elms 
whose spreading tops met far overhead. 

Miss Bolton noticed these signs of careful 
up-keep with great interest; noticed that on 
11 


BEAVER CREEK FARM 


both sides of the drive there were lawns and 
flowers, and that every detail showed a pleas- 
ing difference between this place and the 
ragged, unkempt farmhouse grounds they had 
passed. Scudder drew up before the house 
where, on a veranda, stood a lady whose cheer- 
ful eyes grew moist as she caught sight of 
Orville. 

The boy leaped from the station wagon be- 
fore it stopped and ran to her. 

“ Hello, grandmamma ! he cried, and added, 
as he had been instructed : Mamma, papa, and 
the little kids send you lots of love and these,’’ 
and he kissed the lady, who held him with one 
arm while she extended a hand to greet Miss 
Bolton. That lady’s wonder grew as she noted 
the modem elegance of Mrs. Hulburt’s dress, 
the signs of comfort seen about the broad ve- 
randa — lounging chairs, ' a book-strewn table, 
the rug spread under the hammock. And she 
could not help noting a pipe, cap, and tennis 
racket lying carelessly by the hammock. Such 
things did not suggest the conditions she ex- 
pected to find when she accepted an invitation 
to “ look over ” an offer to teach a country 
12 


ORREY RIGHTS THINGS 


district school. As she observed her surround- 
ings she was being studied with perhaps as 
much interest by Mrs. Hulburt, who was say- 
ing to her : 

“ The maid will show you your room. When 
you are ready, come down and have tea. You 
must be tired, my dear.’’ 

Mrs. Hulburt, although she was as unlike as 
possible what Miss Bolton expected to find her, 
was just the kind of a woman one likes to be 
addressed by as “ my dear.” You knew as soon 
as ever you saw her that that was not her 
habit of speech ; that she was one who observed 
keenly, and reserved her my dears ” for those 
who pleased her. 

This young man,” she added, tightening her 
arm about Orville, ^‘need not wash the dust 
from his face before he has something to eat.” 

WTiile Orville was permitting his grand- 
mother to give him just one more piece of 
apple pie, and one more glass of fresh milk, 
as he gravely answered her questions about 
his father and mother and the little sisters 
in the nursery. Miss Bolton reappeared on the 
veranda, and saw, idling in the hammock, a 
13 


BEAVEK CKEEK FAEM 


young man she at once related to the pipe, 
cap, and racket. At sight of her he arose, 
approached her, and asked gravely: “Is this 
Miss Bolton? ” 

She assured him that she was. 

“ Miss Marion Bolton, according to your let- 
ters.” 

When he mentioned her letters she looked 
at him in surprise. 

“ I am Mr. Hulburt,” he said, as if in answer 
to her look. 

“ Indeed ! ” she said. “ I did not know — that 
is, I thought ” 

“ Pardon me, young lady,” he interrupted, 
“ you are not required to think in your capacity 
as teacher. Pve had instructors who thought, 
and they were beastly bores. You will please 
answer a few questions before we have tea. 
Bo you play tennis? ” 

“ Why, yes, I do, rather badly. But I had 
an idea ” 

“ Your idea may be interesting,” he again 
interrupted, “ but we will not consider it just 
now.” 

Miss Bolton’s color began to rise, and she 

14 


OREEY RIGHTS THINGS 


looked at the young man with a puzzled ex- 
pression as he continued: 

“ What is important to consider now is 
whether you ride, and, if you do, whether on 
a sidesaddle or en cavalier 
“Really, sir, this does not seem pertinent 
to ” 

“Is it becoming in a young lady to tell as 
old a man as I am that he is impertinent ? But 
I will overlook that for the present. Do you 
prefer rowing on the lake — Pond, they call it — . 
by moonlight or dancing in the barn? ’’ 

“ Sir ! ” she exclaimed. “ I do not believe 
you have asked me here to answer such silly 
questions. I almost doubt if you are Mr. Hul- 
burt.” 

“ This is, indeed, the age of disbelief,” the 
young man said with a sigh. “ I assure you 

that I am Mr. Hulburt, and I wish to know ” 

Miss Bolton did not hear what else he said, 
for at that moment an older man, who had just 
alighted from a horse, came up the steps and 
walked softly forward until he laid his hand 
on the young man’s shoulder, saying: 

“ Yes, Miss Bolton, this is Mr. Hulburt — Mr. 

15 


BEAVEE CEEEK FAEM 


Jack Hulburt, my nephew — and the most impu- 
dent, graceless scamp in seven counties.” 

This introduction did not abash the young 
man in the least, for he replied : “ Why, uncle, 
how can you say such a thing of one who lives 
only to help Miss Bolton in her school work? 
Miss Bolton, do not heed my uncle’s words. 
He is a person of a quick and testy temper, 
and strive as I may ” 

“ Jack, go and ask your aunt when we may 
have some tea,” said the Squire. But Miss 
Bolton did not know that the newcomer was 
Squire Hulburt. She had been quizzed by one 
man, she knew that ; and while he was too good- 
natured and too good-looking for any reason- 
able young woman to be annoyed by his quiz- 
zing, she did not intend to be caught in any 
more mistakes. This uncertainty on her part, 
and the Squire’s impression that she, of course, 
knew who he was, might have led to an embar- 
rassment had not everything been nicely set in 
order by Orville. He had been fed to a state 
of perfect comfort by his grandmother, who 
had further added to his peace of mind by not 
ordering him at once to his delayed ablutions. 

16 


ORREY RIGHTS THINGS 

“ I think,” he had said to her, “ as I won’t 
have tea with you I needn’t wash my face and 
hands until just before dinner. Don’t you think 
so! ” 

Grandmother thought so, and the young man 
strolled out to the veranda to see how his trav- 
eling companion was getting along. He arrived 
just at the moment when Jack, quietly enjoy- 
ing the result of his nonsense, wouldn’t explain 
anything; when Miss Bolton wouldn’t ask for 
any explanation, and when the Squire, not 
knowing all the nonsense Jack had talked, did 
not know what had to be explained. 

However ignorant of American geography 
Orville’s English governess may have been — 
and she was, in truth, responsible for his im- 
pression that Buffalo was on the Penobscot 
River near the Mississippi — she thoroughly 
taught him social ceremonies. Orville’s moth- 
er had said to his father : “ You may select 
his teachers in boxing and fencing, but I must 
see that he has a teacher who will drill him 
in manners. Most little boys are little sav- 
ages.” 

Orville saw at a glance that there was a hitch 

17 


BEAVEE CREEK FARM 

in the veranda situation, so he advanced to his 
amiable traveling companion, saying : 

Miss Bolton, I am sorry I was not here to 
introduce you, but I had family affairs to dis- 
cuss with my grandmother. This is my grand- 
father, and this” (turning to Jack) ‘‘is my 
cousin.” 

“ You are just in time, Orville,” said the 
Squire, when he had acknowledged the intro- 
duction, “ for I suspect that Master Jack was 
trying to pass himself off as the old gentleman 
who had written to Miss Bolton about the dis- 
trict school.” 

“ Oh, not at all. Miss Bolton,” explained 
Orrey with his grand manner. “ My Cousin 
Jack is only a college graduate, but my grand- 
father is a Squire.” 

This speech set the others laughing, but 
Orrey ignored them, adding : “ I think tea is 
served; and, if you please, we’ll all go in, for 
I guess I’ll have some — if there are cakes — for 
it will be some time before dinner.” 


18 


CHAPTEE in 


A QUEER QUARREL 

E AELY the next morning, before anyone 
else but Mrs. Hulburt and the maids 
were astir in the bouse, Orville stood 
on the front veranda watching the red sun draw 
clear from the mountains. His legs were spread 
apart, bis bands in bis pockets, and bis little 
skull cap, of the style called “ grape skin,” was 
perched far on the back of bis bead. His 
knickerbockers and jacket were of soft white 
flannel, bis collar of starched linen, with a fall- 
ing tie of scarlet fastened with a pin which 
represented a pair of fencing foils, bis stock- 
ings were gleaming tan color, and bis low shoes 
were burnished and buckled. He did not know 
that there was anything in bis dress unusual 
for the place — that it was soon to involve him 
in a controversy verging on war — and was con- 
19 


BEAVEK CREEK FARM 


scious chiefly that porridge and milk was a 
comforting breakfast; that the warmth of the 
sun was not disagreeable, though it was not 
yet September; that he liked to draw deep 
breaths, and that the prospect was fair. He 
wondered where he could find a boy to play 
with who could answer a few of the thousand 
questions he wanted to ask. 

There strolled around the corner of the house 
a black and tan hound, with long, drooping ears 
and the wisest, clearest, deep-brown eyes dog 
ever had, and who, upon seeing the young man, 
said as plainly as if he had uttered the words : 

Hello ! Whom have we here 1 An odd-looking 
boy, to be sure, but an honest one. Vll intro- 
duce myself. I may be of service to him.’^ 
Thereupon Towser sedately ascended to the 
veranda and assured himself that he approved 
of Orville’s personal odor — your letter of credit 
or discredit to any dog worth knowing — and 
then placed a friendly paw in the hand Orville 
held out to him. 

“ Hello, old chap ! ” the boy said, in answer 
to this hospitable greeting. He patted Towser’s 
head, pulled his silken ears, and the dog rose 
20 


A QUEER QUARREL 

on his hind legs and placed two large paws 
on his new friend’s shoulders. The introduc- 
tion was complete and satisfactory. 

Then Towser strolled down the steps, turn- 
ing his head with inviting eyes, and Orville 
followed, as he knew he was being asked to. 
Towser showed the way around past the mod- 
ern brick part of the house, built when Orville’s 
father was a boy, past the older, rough-stone 
portion, and then the original log house built 
by the first Hulburt to settle in that country, 
before the War of the Revolution; on through 
the kitchen garden, on past the mighty barn 
where two or three men under Scudder were 
finishing the morning chores, and through a 
pasture to the edge of a slope bounded by a 
pine-root fence. Here Towser put his fore 
paws on the top of a root and looked off to 
the west, turning inquiring eyes on the boy now 
and then which plainly said: 

‘^Well, what do you think of this! We con- 
sider it one of our best views.” 

The country sloped away gradually to the 
valley below, with here and there hills of first 
growth pine, hay fields where the brown mows 
21 


BEAVER CREEK FARM 


were being baled as the steam baler moved 
slowly from mow to mow, fields still waving 
with barley and oats, pastures where cattle, 
sheep, and pigs fed; and almost as far as Or- 
ville could distinguish objects he saw the great 
model farm of his grandfather, the college-bred 
man who had come back to the lands of his 
fathers, to extend them, to hasten the end of 
the abandoned farm period. All these Orville 
knew were some day to be his, and for the first 
time he began to understand why his grand- 
father had insisted that the city-bred boy 
should visit the Farm. 

Towser may have had other views to show, 
but a man changing some sheep from one pas- 
ture to another whistled for him, and Towser 
went to his duty. No collie he, but he under- 
stood the foolishness of sheep nature as well 
as any dog named Shep, and he was soon cor- 
recting the notion of the flock that they really 
ought to go every possible way but the right 
way. 

Orville saw many things he meant to know 
all about as soon as possible. There was the 
winding Beaver Creek, seen here and there 
22 


A QUEER QUARREL 

tumbling and gliding on its way to the lake; 
there was one of those fascinating hills like 
some mighty cave animal sitting on its haunches 
and looking otf to the west. He was glad there 
was one of those on the farm, for its gradual 
slope on the east made an easy ascent, while 
its abrupt western face suggested dangerous, 
and therefore delightful, climbs. He had heard 
of the Pond, and looked about until he located 
it. Then he strolled in that direction. 

He came rmexpectedly upon the upper end 
of the Pond as he cleared a little rise of pasture 
land. But more fascinating than the gleaming 
sheet of water, stretching away to a swamp at 
its lower end, was the figure of a boy just 
below him. Orville changed his position to get 
a side view, because from directly above he 
could see only an enormous straw hat and a 
pair of outstretched hands holding a fishing 
pole. His new view point brought him nearer, 
and he saw that the boy, who was about his age, 
was intensely interested in his sport. Presently 
he drew a black, big-headed, wedge-shaped crea- 
ture out of the water, unhooked it, threaded it 
by passing a little stick through its gills for- 
3 23 


BEAVER CREEK FARM 


ward and out of its mouth, and thus strung it 
with a mess of others in the water — lively, 
though captive. Orville had never before seen 
such a fish, and never in his life an occupation 
so unspeakably interesting. 

The fisher hoy, besides the overshadowing 
hat, wore a calico waist picturesquely opened 
at the throat and sketchily fastened to a pair 
of knee breeches. His bare legs were tanned 
a deep brown, and feet and ankles were stock- 
inged with an even plaster of mud which made 
Orville hate his own polished shoes, and his 
toes to tingle with a desire to be clothed only 
in mud. 

Here was a fellow to be cultivated. Orville 
drew nearer until his steps caught the atten- 
tion of the fisher, who gazed on Orville in open- 
mouthed wonder, which passed from a hope that 
the sight was unreal into a sorrowful knowl- 
edge that it was real. Then the fisher turned 
away and blushed with mortification. He was 
thoroughly ashamed that any mortal, especially 
a boy, should be made to dress in such shame- 
ful — shameless — clothes. His misery was so 
acute, his pity so deep, that for a time he could 
24 


A QUEER QUARREL 

not answer when Orville asked cheerfully: 
^‘What are you fishing for, old chap!” 

When Lensie Severance — for such was the 
fisher’s name — could control his emotion, he 
said slowly : 

Bulls.” 

Orville had little knowledge of fish beyond 
that they were usually a course at dinner, but 
he had a general knowledge of things which 
made him doubt this statement. He firmly be- 
lieved that bulls were not commonly caught by 
hook and line, and he was convinced that they 
seldom lived under water ; still he had seen the 
clown at the Hippodrome fish a bull pup out 
of the tank, so he did not commit himself with- 
out further question. What kind of bulls! ” 
he asked. 

“ Pouts,” was the reply, delivered with a look 
of suspicion. 

Orville, not receiving any useful knowledge 
from this, changed his form of approach, for 
he was determined to know this delightful 
sportsman. It must be good fun,” he said, 
coming close to Lensie, and peering at the 
bunch of fish wiggling at the end of the string. 
25 


BEAVEK CEEEK FAEM 


Lensie glanced at the questioner with grow- 
ing indignation, for he began to think he was 
being made fun of. But he did not reply. 

“ I should awfully like to try it, if you don’t 
mind,” Orville went on, almost unable to keep 
his hands off the fishing pole. “ I’ll give you 
a nickel for a try,” he concluded, producing a 
purse which held the coin he mentioned and no 
other. 

Lensie was redder than ever, but no longer 
from mortification. He was angry: the out- 
landish stranger was making fun of him. He 
drew out the line, laid the pole aside, stood 
up, advanced his face with threatening contor- 
tions, and growled : 

“ You’re a dude ! ” 

“ No, I’m not,” said Orville, surprised but 
not giving ground, though Lensie was now 
pressing against him. 

You are a dude,” repeated Lensie, scowling 
more darkly. 

“ Why am I a dude ? ” asked the other. 

Because,” replied Lensie after a thought- 
ful pause, “ because you wear those foolish 
things.” 


26 


A QUEER QUARREL 

“ What foolish things? ” demanded the puz- 
zled Orville. 

Oh, you know well enough,” Lensie replied, 
wagging his head. 

“ If I knew I wouldn’t ask you,” said Orville. 

Lensie after a while specified: That cap — 
and jacket — and pants — and shoes. They’re 
foolish.” 

“ Are they, though ? ” said Orville. What 
should I wear instead? ” 

“ Nothing! ” Lensie asserted emphatically. 

Orville was usually good-natured, and in this 
case was especially eager to please, for the 
other boy’s dress and occupation had delighted 
him. 

See here, kid,” he said, after thinking 
over the situation, you seem to have a horrid 
grouch on, but I don’t know what all the row’s 
about. If you’ll just stop that silly gab about 
me being a dude and let me fish with your 
line ” 

To his astonishment Orville was interrupted 
by the other crying passionately : 

I can lick you ! ” 

Orville was not frightened but his amaze- 

27 


BEAVEE CEEEK FARM 


ment increased. He couldn’t in the least un- 
derstand the other’s state of mind, and the 
other couldn’t in the least explain himself. 
The offense of Orville’s dress, and certain ex- 
pressions Orville used in talking, which were 
foreign to Lensie and therefore deemed insult- 
ing, had overcome his first pity and now rankled 
so that only primitive emotion possessed him. 

“ I can lick you ! ” he again shouted fiercely. 

Orville could only stare, bewildered, until 
something made the situation funny to him, 
and then he laughed. 

Well, old chap,” he said, “ I don’t believe 
you can lick me, for you are holding the backs 
of your hands up. You couldn’t give any kind 
of a wallop that way. Clench your fists square- 
ly, and hold the backs down. That’s right,” he 
added, as Lensie obeyed and instinctively felt 
the greater power a blow would have delivered 
that way. ‘‘ Now,” continued Orville, “ you 
swing or lead at me with either hand, and I’ll 
tell whether or not you can lick me.” 

Lensie, madder than ever at this patronizing 
tone, gathered himself for a mighty blow and 
swung. He swung so hard that he wheeled 
28 



Blindly, his arms going like a windmill 









A QUEEE QUAEREL 

completely round, and, having unconsciously 
shut his eyes, was surprised when he opened 
them to find that Orville had nimbly side- 
stepped, and was pleasantly smiling at him. 

I could have knocked your head off while 
you were swinging at me,” Orville commented 
good-naturedly. 

This speech, and the manner of delivering it, 
sent Lensie into a rage of tears. He sprang at 
Orville blindly, his arms going like a windmill, 
but to his surprise and greater anger none of 
his blows landed, and when he chanced to open 
his eyes he found Orville alert, side-stepping 
or dodging, but never holding his hands in a 
defensive position. At the end of one of 
his blind rushes Lensie felt himself checked 
by a strong grip on his shoulder, and found 
that he and Orville were held apart by Jack 
Hulburt, and that a young lady he did not 
know was standing near by, looking greatly 
distressed. 

What the deuce are you kids up to 1 ” de- 
manded Jack, shaking them. 

“ Just fooling,” said Orville. 

“ We weren’t fooling, we were fighting ! ” as- 

29 


BEAVEE CEEEK FAEM 


serted Lensie hotly. “ And I could lick him if 
he’d only stand still.” 

Nonsense! ” said Jack, trying not to laugh 
at Lensie’s reproach to the other boy. “ Or- 
ville has been taught to box just as you have 
been taught to fish, and you’d better be ex- 
changing knowledge than exchanging blows. 
What’s the trouble, anyway, Orrey? ” 

<< Why, he says that I’m a dude, and that I 
talk foolish. That’s rot ! ” 

This time Jack did not conceal a smile. 
Well, Len, old fellow,” he said, “ my young 
kinsman has had his language corrupted, that’s 
a fact; but as it isn’t his fault, but his govern- 
ess’s, I say we should not be too hard on him. 
As for Len, here,” he continued, turning to 
Orville, ‘‘ he’s one of the best fellows I know. 
Len and I are great chums, and I want you to 
like him.” 


30 


CHAPTER IV 


THE BOYS FIND A CAVE 

T his time the peacemaker was success- 
ful, for when Len heard such good 
account of the stranger, and that he 
was a kinsman of his friend Jack, he stared 
at Orville with lessening wrath, finally smiled 
shyly and held out an open hand, saying : Oh, 
if I’d known he was one of the Squire’s folks, 
and the boy you told me about, I wouldn’t have 
minded his foolishness. But I thought he was 
a stranger — and you have to look out for them.’’ 

Orville, still perplexed as to the precise na- 
ture of his offending, took the proffered hand 
of peace, and soon enjoyed the ecstasy of land- 
ing a “ bull,” and of getting his hands pricked 
and stung in a dozen places before he mastered 
the mystery of grasping the horny, squirming, 
slippery thing so as to release it from the hook 
without self-injury. 


31 


BEAVEE CEEEK FAEM 


This unfavorable first encounter was fol- 
lowed by a close friendship, for when Len un- 
derstood that Orrey did not use his outlandish 
language for the purpose of offending, and that 
his clothes were a matter in which he was not 
at all concerned, and Orrey learned that the 
other knew an endless number of the most fas- 
cinating things about the woods and fields and 
water which he was glad to impart, there was 
peace and mutual admiration. 

It was only the next day that painful proof 
of this admiration — the flattery of imitation — 
was furnished on both sides. Early the next 
morning Orrey appeared on the veranda, his 
jacket discarded, and, most noticeable change, 
in bare feet. He was delighted, as he walked 
boldly across the smooth flooring, with the feel- 
ing of coolness and freedom about his feet. 
No more shoes for him! When he reached the 
path he began to walk gingerly, for the gravel 
ground into his unhardened soles in a way most 
painful. But he pluckily continued on his way, 
finding the grass at the sides of the path easier 
walking. Still, there were now and then twigs 
or stones which made him wince as he came 
32 


THE BOYS FIND A CAVE 

down on tliem with his full weight, and taught 
him to be careful about placing his feet. With 
cautious steps he made his way slowly to the 
big pasture you cross just before the Pond is 
reached, and there he looked for easy going, 
remembering how smooth and tempting it 
seemed the day before. But all going is not 
smooth which looks so. There were hard lumps 
of earth, and, worst of all, thistles and briers, 
low-growing, and tramped out of sight by the 
stock, but which have a vicious prominence 
when a fellow attempts to walk over them un- 
shod. Little by little the bruises, cuts, and 
stings made walking almost impossible, and he 
would have given up had not his pride been 
involved in his plan to show Len that he, too, 
could go barefoot. Painfully he reached the 
edge of the Pond just as Len approached, limp- 
ing. He wore shoes : new, hard, unyielding 
Sunday shoes. Each discovered what the other 
had done at the same time, and grinned re- 
sponsively. 

‘‘ I’m done for,” said Orrey, turning up one 
foot and then the other, and finding them 
scarred with pink and blue bruises, sharp cuts 
33 


BEAVER CREEK FARM 

and punctures which bled. Len sat down and 
pulled off his shoes with a sigh. 

I only wore them/^ he explained, “ because 
I thought you’d wear yours. They’ve nearly 
ground my feet off.” 

I went barefoot,” Orrey confessed, “ be- 
cause you looked so comfy that way. But I’ll 
never get back home. Never!” 

We’ve got to mud ’em,” said Len. “ That’s 
the way to take out the stings.” In his bare 
feet he went to a spring and returned with a 
double handful of soft mud, with which they 
daubed their feet. This had the effect of easing 
the throbbing hurts, and then they dangled 
their feet in the water until comparative cures 
resulted. Then Orrey put on Len’s shoes and 
Len went barefoot, and, though both limped, 
they were able to make a promised excursion 
to the west side of the hill, which rose so ab- 
ruptly there and so gently on the east. 

Len told Orrey that a few days before he 
came a great wind had blown down some trees 
below the bluff of that hill. This would make 
it a fine place to play Indians; and it was to 
examine the battle ground that they planned 
34 


THE BOYS FIND A CAVE 


the excursion. The conditions were found to 
be even better than Len had promised; the 
fallen trees were second growths, but old and 
big enough to make formidable defenses for 
the American army against the British, and 
just the thing for an attacking party of Indians 
to crawl through and attempt to massacre a 
farmer’s family on the other side of the wind- 
fall. 

“ But we two can’t play armies, Indians, and 
farmers all alone,” said Orrey. 

“ No,” answered Len. We’ll play Ameri- 
cans and Indians, and a couple of girls — the 
Twins, you know — who will be here to-morrow, 
will play British and farmers.” 

Further explanation by Len showed Orrey 
that his grandfather had selected Len and the 
Twins as his companions because they were 
neighbors, and otherwise proper persons to 
initiate Orrey into the mysteries of farm-life 
play. It appeared that Len was fishing for 
bulls on the morning before while awaiting a 
proper hour to go to the house and call for 
Orrey, but had no suspicion that the strange- 
looking boy he had encountered could be an 
35 


BEAVEE CEEEK FAEM 


offshoot of so sensible a family as that of 
Beaver Creek Farm. Talking over these mat- 
ters, and arriving at good understanding of 
their present plans and future prospects, the 
boys had slowly made their way to the wind- 
fall. 

It was too enticing a battle ground not to 
be tested at once; so Len played that he was 
one of Burgoyne^s Indians and Orrey one of 
Schuyler’s scouts, and they hunted each other 
through the tangle of fallen trees. Once, when 
Orrey was in hot pursuit of the crafty redskin, 
with the delightful promise that he could kill 
and scalp him if he overtook him, Orrey sud- 
denly lost the trail. Len had been emitting 
horrid war cries, to be realistic and give Orrey 
a clew to the pursuit. These cries abruptly 
ceased in a smothered yell; and thinking — at 
least hoping — that the red fiend had met a bear, 
or some patriotic beast which would hold him 
until the pursuer could overtake and dispatch 
him to the Happy Hunting Ground, Orrey has- 
tened on. It should be said, rather, that he 
tried to hasten, for traveling through the fallen 
trees was a hard job, and even the reduced 
36 


THE BOYS FIND A CAVE 


amount of clothing the scout wore was in rags, 
and his legs scratched into an appearance of 
pink lace. 

Peer and scramble, call and shout as he 
would, he heard nothing, saw nothing of the 
Indian for some time. But at last, emerging 
on the far side of the windfall, at the foot of 
the steep front of the hill, he heard muffled 
grunts which indicated that the foe — or some- 
thing or somebody — was near at hand. After 
some time he traced the sounds as coming from 
a hole left by the upturned roots of a fallen 
tree, much like other holes he had passed. 
Bending over its edge, Orrey saw that this was 
deeper than others, and had a small opening 
leading into the base of the cliff. 

“ Surrender ! he cried. “ Come out and be 
scalped, faithless foe of your best friend 

“ I can’t surrender until I get the sand out 
of my mouth, can I? ” was the surprising re- 
ply which issued vaguely from the hole. “ Get 
a stick and make a bigger opening for me,” was 
the next extraordinary request. 

Orrey began to have a notion of what had 
befallen his playmate. Exactly what it was is 
37 


BEAVEE CEEEK FAEM 


this: the redskin, finding that the scout was 
gaining on him, jumped into a root hole, in- 
tending to hide, but, to his amazement, instead 
of finding firm ground at the bottom, continued 
to slide down a steep way — where, he did not 
know. With him slid a quantity of loose earth 
and rubbish which almost choked up the very 
opening which had received him. 

Orrey soon had the opening cleared, jumped 
down into the hole, crawled through the open- 
ing, and joined his companion. Len grabbed 
his hand as soon as he felt him near, and ex- 
claimed ; 

“ It^s a cave ! ” 

That, in fact, it was ; a cave which a fallen 
tree had disclosed; one which had not always 
been concealed from the inhabitants of Beaver 
Creek Farm, and which had an interesting his- 
tory connected with the early days of danger of 
a century and a third ago. 

But that story is deserving of a separate 
chapter for its telling. 


38 


CHAPTER V 


KEAL WAR 

T WO very dirty, very ragged and 
bruised boys limping np to the 
house was the sight which caused 
Mrs. Hulburt to exclaim : In the name of 
mercy, what have those children been doing? ” 
Jack and Miss Bolton were on the veranda 
with her, and, looking at the boys. Jack said: 
“ TheyVe had their fight, after all.” 

The boys, breathless and excited, told their 
story, and at its end J ack went to find Scudder 
and organize an expedition, with lanterns, rope, 
and ladder, to explore the cave, while Mrs. 
Hulburt took the sore but happy discoverers 
into the house for scrubbing and repairs, which 
unpleasant operation was to be rewarded by 
something to eat. 

Even to be washed, arnicaed, and court- 
4 39 


BEAVEE CREEK FARM 


plastered can be endured when the victim is 
promised one of Mrs. Hulburfs meals as a 
consolation. The good qualities of that lady 
are too numerous to mention, but I cannot 
refrain from saying something about what I 
consider one of her best. She turned a deaf 
ear to all this talk we hear so much of these 
days about our eating too much. 

‘‘ Too much what ? ” she would ask. “ Too 
many silly sauces made by pretenders in the 
kitchen, perhaps ; too many mixy messes intro- 
duced by foreign rogues who, as like as not, are 
in a conspiracy to kill otf the American race. 

But nobody, and especially no child, ever ate 
too much if his diet were confined to the simple 
cooking of the farm kitchen. Good, honest 
meat, vegetables, and bread should be the 
foundation of all eating, but the more appetiz- 
ing goodies of the cupboard should be taken 
liberally. No fancy pastries, but simple pies 
of black or blue berries (fresh or preserved), 
of pumpkin, of mince, peach, or apple. Cakes 
should be avoided unless they are of home-made 
fruit varieties, or jelly, and such staples as 
pound, angel, and chocolate. Aside from these 
40 


REAL WAR 


simple articles the diet should be restricted 
to ginger cookies, or gingerbread, doughnuts, 
maple sugar (and syrup, of course, for the 
morning griddle cakes), and the honest pre- 
serves of the farm — quince, berries, and apple 
(the latter in the form of butter), and such 
jams and marmalades as every respectable 
housewife must have in sufficient quantity.” 

But while she held firmly to these restrictions 
as to what may be eaten, Mrs. Hulburt was 
liberal as to quantity; holding that if the diet 
were thus limited in scope, no one need be 
afraid to eat all that he wanted to, and as 
often as occasion offered. 

It was while Orrey and Len were doing their 
best not to seem opposed to Mrs. Hulburt’s 
theory about food that the Squire returned 
and heard the story of the cave. His wife 
had not been much impressed with the impor- 
tance of the discovery, thinking more of the 
boys’ comfort, perhaps; but the Squire was as 
nearly excited about it as it was possible for 
him to be about anything. He did not tell 
what so much interested him about the story 
until Miss Bolton and Jack came back from 
41 


BEAVEK CEEEK FAEM 


their expedition, and Jack triumphantly dis- 
played, as trophy of their search, a large metal 
platter of graceful shape, but black with age 
and dirt. This the Squire took eagerly, and 
rubbed until some faint lines of design ap- 
peared. Then he looked at his puzzled wife 
and asked: 

“ Dorothy Hulburt, what piece of my great- 
grandmother’s set of pewter is missing I ” 

“ A game platter, decorated with wild tur- 
keys and other American birds,” she responded 
with a promptness which showed intimate 
knowledge of the family record of the set. 

“ And here’s the platter ! ” declared the 
Squire. “ It explains the story we have never 
been able to understand — the old diary story 
of the flight to the cave.” 

The Squire told the story that evening after 
consulting old diaries and other records with 
which he patched the tale together while his 
wife cleaned the precious platter, disclosing the 
design engraved upon it which an old inventory 
described. 

‘‘ In the year 1772,” began the Squire when 
he had arranged some books and papers on a 
42 


EEAL WAR 


table by bis side, “ there was a Gilbert Hulburt 
who came into this country by the way of the 
Connecticut River and other waters to Lake 
Champlain. Then he came to this spot, to take 
possession of a tract of land he had bought 
on which to establish a home, and where he 
and his wife, their young son, and his brother 
Horace were soon living happily in the log 
house which still makes part of the building 
we are now in. 

“ When the time came for Americans to de- 
cide whether they would stand with the Pa- 
triots or Royalists — that is, with those who 
wanted the Colonies to separate from Great 
Britain or remain under the government of the 
King— Gilbert was for the American cause; but 
Horace held back because he was engaged to 
marry a young lady in a neighboring Royalist 
family. But soon the British general, Bur- 
goyne, came down through Lake Champlain 
from Canada with an army of British, Cana- 
dians, Hessians, and four hundred savage and 
blood-thirsty Indians, to conquer the Ameri- 
cans of this part of the country, and thus help 
General Howe destroy the army under General 
43 


BEAVEE CREEK FARM 


Washington. General Burgoyne issued a proc- 
lamation in which he announced to the settlers 
about here that ‘ the messengers of justice and 
wrath await them in the field; and devastation 
and famine and every concomitant horror will 
bar the way to their return ’ if they were not 
loyal to King George.^^ 

The Squire had taken up a book to read the 
exact language of Burgoyne’ s infamous threat, 
and when he laid the book down he did not 
resume the story until after quite a pause. 

Now it is a fact,” said the Squire when he 
did resume, “ a fact which greatly surprised 
Burgoyne, that his threat to let loose savage 
Indians on the families and homes of those who 
opposed him, instead of frightening the settlers 
into remaining at home, or joining him, as he 
expected many would, sent into the field against 
him many who had hoped to remain and pro- 
tect their women and children. First of our 
household Horace, the brother, went with some 
neighbors to the relief of American troops be- 
sieged by the enemy — including Indians — at a 
place some distance from here, called Fort 
Schuyler. Horace and his friends joined the 
44 


EEAL WAR 


relief force which marched under General Nich- 
olas Herkimer to Fort Schuyler; but Horace 
fell, tomahawked by Indians, in the swamp of 
Oriskany, where the rescuing party was am- 
bushed. The battle was fought while torrents 
of rain fell from black and thundering clouds, 
and victory was on our side. 

“ It was not this news which sent Gilbert, 
next into the ranks of the fighting Patriots — 
for he did not know of the death of his brother 
until much later — ^but news of another horror 
which fired the Green Mountains and sent men 
from many an unprotected and lonely home to 
help drive the invader and his savage aids from 
the land. Jenny McCrea, a beautiful young 
white girl, had been captured by one of Bur- 
goyne’s allies, an Indian known as the Wyandot 
Panther, and her scalp, the pitiful trophy of 
her massacre, had been displayed in the British 
camp.” 

I read that story,” said Orrey, who spoke 
when the Squire turned to the table for a book. 
“ It said that the Wyandot had been sent to 
bring Jenny into the British camp, where her 
sweetheart was.” 


45 


BEAVEE CEEEK FAEM 

“ The stupidest invention which ever crept 
into history,” responded the Squire. It is 
true that a young man engaged to marry Jenny 
was in Burgoyne’s army, but he was an Amer- 
ican who lived in these parts, and knowing 
what all our people knew about Indians, he 
would no more have sent the Wyandot Pan- 
ther to escort his pretty sweetheart between 
the lines than your grandmother would give 
you a rattlesnake to play with. But there is 
absolute evidence that the Wyandot captured 
Jenny as spoils of war just as she and another 
woman were setting out from Port Edward to 
go to Port Miller, for greater safety from the 
Indian allies of the British. Burgoyne had 
otfered the Indians a reward — ‘ the equivalent 
of a barrel of rum ’ — for each white prisoner 
brought in alive, and the reason the Wyandot 
brought in Jenny’s scalp only was that he was 
too closely pursued by some Americans to ef- 
fect his escape burdened with a prisoner. 

When Gilbert Hulburt joined the army, he 
left his wife to the protection of their son, then 
grown to be a fine lad of fourteen. He could 
shoot straight, and could find a path through 
46 


EEAL WAR 


the forests as well as any Indian. The brave 
wife knew what her husband and his friends 
thought, which made them determined to go to 
the ranks. As a humble poet expresses it in 
this volume: 

“ They thought of all their country’s wrongs, 

They thought of noble lives 
Poured out in battle with the foes; — 

They thought upon their wives, 

Their children and their aged sires. 

Their churches, firesides, God! 

And these deep thoughts made hallowed ground 
Each foot of soil they trod. 

Gilbert went to join his neighbor, John 
Stark, near Bennington, with other Green 
Mountain men of whom Burgoyne testily wrote 
to his government: ^ They are the most active 
and rebellious men of the continent, and hang 
like a gathering storm on my left.^ They were 
the men who charged the hill near Bennington, 
and defeated the Hessians Burgoyne sent to 
clear his left. Gilbert — an ancestor of yours, 
Orville — heard Stark tell his men that he would 
win with them that day or his wife would be 
a widow. Let me read you the way an old- 
47 


BEAVER CREEK FARM 


fashioned verse maker tells that part of the 
story : 

“ The morning came — there stood the foe — 

Stark eyed them as they stood; 

Few words he spake — ’twas not a time 
For moralizing mood: 

“'See them, the enemy, my boys! — 

Now, strong in valor’s might. 

Beat them, or Betty Stark will sleep 
In widowhood to-night.’ 

“ If Gilbert’s wife expected to have the com- 
fort of her gallant young son’s presence during 
the absence of her husband and brother, she 
was mistaken. Philo — that was the boy’s name 
— was away most of the days and some of the 
nights ; for he, and other lads of his age, formed 
part of the storm which hung on Burgoyne’s 
left, and made it so difficult for the British 
to send forward much-needed supplies. But 
Philo and his young companions kept close 
watch for Indians, and whenever the savages 
were in the neighborhood the lads would gather 
the women and hurry them to a cave on the 
Hulburt farm. We know this by these letters 
and diaries of the period, which I have just 
48 

% 


EEAL WAE 


now looked over ; but for a century and a third 
the locality of the cave has been a mystery 
until Orrey and Len discovered it to-day. 

There were many flights to the cave, and 
the women took provisions there, not alone for 
their own use in time of hiding from the mur- 
derers of Jenny McCrea, but for the lads, who 
would not always go to their homes because 
of the presence in the neighborhood of British 
recruiting officers, looking for the Eoyalists 
Burgoyne thought were to be found here. 

Now the mystery is explained. When our 
good ancestor, Gilbert Hulburt, had helped 
Stark defeat the enemy at Bennington, he 
saw many Indians desert from the British 
ranks, and he knew that the redmen would 
be even more savage than before in their raids 
on the settlers; so he hastened home to take 
his family to a place of safety. It was not 
until ten years later that the family returned 
to the farm, and in the meantime a landslide 
down the steep side of the hill — a common oc- 
currence — had blocked and hidden the mouth 
of the cave. Trees had grown there, probably 
of considerable size, before the return of the 
49 


BEAVER CREEK FARM 


family, so all trace of the cave was lost. And 
there, all that time, lay hidden the pewter plat- 
ter, carried with provisions in the tronblesome 
days; while succeeding mistresses of the farm 
wondered why that one piece of the famous old 
set was missing.” 




50 


CHAPTER VI 


Washington’s okdeely: scudder 

W HY, grandpapa,” said Orrey, big-eyed 
and excited, when the Squire had 
finished his story of the flight to 
the cave, you talk about those things which 
happened ever and ever so long ago just as 
my dad talks about the — oh! about the stock 
market and football games.” 

The Squire smiled as he answered: “Yes, 
son ” — ^he called Orrey “ son ” — we do feel an 
interest in those events which surprises many 
Americans. Perhaps we have fewer things in 
our lives to take up our interest, and pos^sibly we 
are a little better Americans than some others. 
Why, when I am in New York I hear people 
talk as if we had no history to be proud of; 
I meet men who seem anxious to forget that 
we ever were at war with England^ more espe- 
51 


BBAVEE CEEEK FAEM 


cially to forget that we ever triumphed over 
that country in battle. I meet men whose 
knowledge of American history — at least their 
interest in it — ^goes no further back than the 
last election of a president. We hear foreign- 
ers pity us because we have no historical back- 
ground in our country’s life; no romance, no 
patriotic deeds to make us proud to be Ameri- 
cans. You did not come to the old farm any 
too soon, son. I want you to be the kind of 
American who is not only proud of his coun- 
try’s glorious history and achievements, but 
knows why he is proud.” 

The fact is,” said Jack, speaking to Miss 
Bolton, my uncle is a hard and unforgiving 
man. I beg of you, as you love a quiet life, 
never allow him to express to you his views 
on the fact that the English set fire to our 
national capitol against all rules of civilized 
warfare.” 

“ Jack, don’t talk nonsense,” said Mrs. Hul- 
burt. But the Squire smiled indulgently at his 
nephew, who continued: 

“ My dear aunt, you must admit that my un- 
cle cherishes a disesteem for the English which 
52 


WASHINGTON'S ORDEELY 


is as surprising as it is unmerited — and any 
Englishman can prove that I am right in say- 
ing so. What did he do when Orrey’s father 
gave a letter of introduction to the English- 
man who came up here last winter ? Dreadful ! 
The Englishman learned that the Squire had 
shot a fox, and reproved him, saying : ‘ Squire 
Hulburt, in England we call that murder ! ^ 

‘‘ ^ So I’ve heard,’ said my unabashed uncle, 
‘ but I’ve never been able to see why it is more 
murderous to kill a fox with one shot, and for 
its fur, which we make practical use of, than it 
is to mangle it to death with a pack of hounds 
for a tail of which no use is made.’ 

“ ‘ But it’s not English ! ’ cried the horrified 
Britisher. The next morning my uncle found 
that he had an engagement, which kept him 
away from his own fireside until the visitor 
departed, a couple of weeks later.” 

“ Well,” said the Squire, laughing at the way 
Jack told the story, “ that particular English- 
man heaped coals of fire on my head: he sent 
me the book he wrote on our country, in which, 
after calling me a murderer for shooting a fox, 
he bitterly complained that my poor wife gave 
53 


BEAVEE CEEEK FAEM 


him coffee, hot biscuits, ham, eggs, and buck- 
wheat cakes with maple syrup for breakfast — 

‘ slops and garbage,’ he called them — instead of 
tea, toast, grilled bone and marmalade which 
his soul longed for. But we must not speak of 
my sins — they are not even interesting. Come, 
Len, my boy, recite the piece you spoke at the 
last commencement.” 

Thus unexpectedly appealed to, Len began 
literally to curl up, until his own legs were 
wound in a wonderful manner about the legs 
of the chair. “ I don’t want to,” he said, fiery 
red,^ and glancing sideways at Miss Bolton as 
the special cause for his stage fright. 

Mrs. Hulburt urged him. Do recite it, Len- 
sie,” she said. You spoke it beautifully at the 
school, and I want Miss Bolton to know what 
a fine orator she will have to call on for the 
Christmas exercises.” 

“ I only remember the start,”* said Len. “ I’ll 
speak that, if you want me to.” 

He was assured by Miss Bolton that any part 
of the piece would be welcome, and she was 
so jolly in her encouragement that he imcurled 
and began to swell — really to swell — until his 
54 


WASHINGTON’S ORDERLY 


chest measurement must have increased several 
inches. When he had swollen until his skin 
looked like the silk of a distended balloon, he 
slowly arose, pointed his chin well up in the 
air, and, gathering a mighty breath, spoke what 
follows at the top pitch of his voice, and as if 
it were one long word: 

‘ In the annals of a century and a half, by 
successive deeds of daring, by bloody forays, 
by the romance of border warfare, by the con- 
flict of fleets and armies, the waters and shores 
of Lake Champlain have been consecrated as 
the classic ground of America.’ ” 

Everyone applauded the orator, and Len 
sat down, breathing hard, but happy in his 
success. 

“ Good boy ! ” cried the Squire. I’ll have 
Scudder hitch up and drive you home instead 
of letting you walk.” 

As the company broke up — Mrs. Hulburt to 
the household duties in which she delighted. 
Jack and Miss Bolton to discuss the wonders 
of the stars as seen from the veranda, Orrey 
to ride home with Len and return with Scud- 
der — the Squire retired to his workroom, where 
5 55 


BEAVER CREEK FARM 


he kept a few favorite books, and, taking down 
a volume of Lowell, he read the essay, “ On a 
Certain Condescension in Foreigners.” And 
before any grown-up readers judge the Squire 
harshly for what he said during the evening 
I should like them, too, to read that wholly 
delightful, but now somewhat unfashionable, 
essay. 

Driving back from Len’s, Orrey said to his 
companion : 

“ Is Scudder your first or your last name ? ” 

“ Both,” answered Scudder. 

It can’t be ! ” exclaimed the boy. 

“ You’d think it couldn’t be if you didn’t 
know why it is. It’s all because a forebear of 
mine was an orderly for General Washington. 
I’d tell you the story only I don’t believe you’d 
care to hear it.” 

This was his invariable way of introducing 
his famous story, which he knew anyone would 
want to hear who had an inkling of the curious 
reason he was named Scudder Scudder. 

“ It happened like this,” Scudder said, when 
Orrey had demanded the story : I was the 
56 


WASHINGTON'S ORDEELY 


seventh child in our family, but the first boy. 
Every time a baby came to our home, father, 
who was a powerful pious man, had to do his 
level best not to say words for which he could 
find no excuse in his moral training. He was 
a man proud of his family history, and, as Vve 
hinted to you, most proud of the forebear who 
was an orderly for General Washington. That 
man’s name was Scudder, too, and father was 
mighty anxious to have a son to carry on the 
name and live in these parts where a man can 
boast of his American ancestors and have folks 
imderstand what he is talking about. 

“ But the stork came and came and came, and 
not a blessed baby did it bring who was certain 
to remain a Scudder after it was old enough to 
be married. Well, the first girl got married 
to a man named Brown, and moved out West, 
where there is more land and not so much fer- 
tilizing; another girl married a man named 
Smith, and they went out West, too, and the 
third girl was the belle of the township. 

“ Father began to wrestle in prayer to find 
out if his punishment was because of his fam- 
ily pride, but it didn’t seem to figure out that 
57 


BEAVEE CEEEK FAEM 


way. The third girl married a man named 
Eobinson, and they moved out West. 

u i There they are/ my father would say, 
‘ Brown, Smith, and Eobinson, scattered all 
over the face of the earth, and not a one of 
them giving me even a grandchild who would 
come in when it was hungry if it was called 
Scudder.’ But, just as my father was begin- 
ning to have doubts of the goodness of Provi- 
dence, I came along. 

It would have been all right about my first 
name if the pastor of our church, who had 
often reproved my father for his pride, hadn’t 
told him of a man named Schuyler Stark who 
changed his name to Stark Schuyler in order 
to get a patch of land alongside of his farm 
which the owner’s great-grandfather, a Eoyal- 
ist, had left in his will on condition that each 
owner should swear that it would never belong 
to any man named Stark. 

Mother often told me that when father 
heard that, he was the most cast-down man 
east of the Hudson Eiver, and brooded over 
it so that she feared for his /appetite, which had 
always been tolerably good. All this time 
58 


WASHINGTON’S OEDERLY 


mother was waiting for father to tell what I 
was to be named, for she had my christening 
clothes ready, and the neighbors were getting 
curious about the delay. 

One day father rushed into the house from 
the barn, shouting : ‘ Scudder Scudder ! ’ 

“ ‘ Mercy sakes alive ! What is the matter 
with you?’ asked mother. ‘The baby’s all 
right.’ 

“ ‘ I know he is,’ says father, dancing about 
in a ridiculous manner. ‘ He’s all right because 
he’s to be named Scudder Scudder. Then the 
villain can’t turn his name around so’s there 
won’t be a Scudder in the county.’ 

“ And, Orville, that’s the way it happened. 
All my life I’ve never known rightly whether 
folks were getting friendly with me or not; 
never could tell if the particular Scudder they 
called me was meant for my first name or my 
last. I believe that’s the reason I never mar- 
ried. But I’ve got the stockings, and I’ll get 
the Squire’s wife to show them to you some 
day. She’s got them done up in camphor for 
me.” 

“ Stockings ! ” said Orrey, puzzled. 

59 


BEAVEE CEEEK FAEM 

‘‘ The outward and visible sign, as the pastor 
says about something else, of our family great- 
ness. Those stockings got into our family his- 
tory this way: that Scudder I was telling you 
about was orderly many times for General 
Washington during a winter when our soldiers 
weren’t having a picnic at Valley Forge. One 
day Scudder was in the General’s quarters, and 
there sat Mrs. Washington knitting stockings 
as fast as ever she could for the officer who 
might need them most; and there sat the Gen- 
eral receiving reports, giving orders, and say- 
ing things about the quartermaster and com- 
missary generals which that forebear of mine 
never would repeat, though many men writing 
lives of Washington asked him to. Washing- 
ton was not quite himself. Scudder saw that, 
and he knew why : the General had lost a pocket- 
knife, and had written to the Quartermaster’s 
Department for a new one, but it never came. 
Everyone knows that when you have to do 
hard thinking about a hard problem, nothing 
helps the flow of thought so much as whittling 
a stick. So Scudder, he got a clean piece of 
wood, opened his own knife, and quietly handed 
60 


WASHINGTON'S ORDERLY 


them both to the General, who took them in an 
absent-minded sort of way and was soon whit- 
tling like a whitehead — meaning no disrespect 
to the General. Well, Orrey, will yon believe 
it? — before that stick was half whittled away 
the General had made np his mind just how he 
was to lick the British the next time. Fact! 

Mrs. Washington had seen the whole busi- 
ness, and when Scudder stepped outside for 
an armful of firewood, she followed him, and 
she said : ^ Orderly, youVe got more sense 
than the whole Quartermaster’s Department. 
Here’s a pair of stockings I’ve just finished.’ 

“ It stands to reason that Scudder was might- 
ily pleased to get those stockings, seeing that 
at the time the stockings he wore were those 
he had on when he was born, and his shoes 
were not much to brag of — ^having no soles and 
very little uppers, which was a nuisance, for 
he was always tracking blood around the Gen- 
eral’s quarters wherever he stepped, and hav- 
ing to wash it up before he left. 

But he didn’t wear those stockings then ; 
he’d sort of got used to going without such 
luxuries, and, besides, he didn’t want to make 
61 


BEAVEE CEEEK FAEM 


the other soldiers jealous of him. So he kept 
them for his wedding day; and every Scudder 
since has worn them only on those happy occa- 
sions. But it looks like they were only for 
ornamental purposes now — for, unless I can 
tell if a woman is calling me by my first name, 
how can I be sure that it would be good man- 
ners for me to pop the question! ” * 

* Because I have here faithfully reported the story as told by 
Scudder I do not mean to vouch for it in every detail. But in 
support of Scudder I am happy to say that I have seen in the 
library of a charming gentleman, W. Gordon McCabe, one of 
Virginia’s most distinguished scholars, the original letter Scudder 
spoke of, a letter written and signed by Washington, asking the 
Quartermaster to send him a pocketknife, describing the kind, 
to replace one he had lost. — ^E. W. T. 


62 


CHAPTER Vn 


THE TEERIBLE TOMAHAWK 

L ENSIE severance was tlie son of 
a neighboring farmer, a descendant 
of an old family, who, imlike the 
Squire, had lived on the farm continuously 
since his birth. When the Squire, after his 
years at college and his travels, came back and 
married a playmate of his youth — who, too, 
had lived in cities — his neighbors predicted 
dire things for the farm, which he undertook 
to run under new-fashioned conditions. He 
varied the crops, drained the lowlands, used 
new implements for saving labor, bred back the 
vanishing Morgan strain of horses, the Merino 
sheep, and lectured his neighbors soundly on 
their wasteful and unscientific ways. 

At first they laughed at him, but when he 
showed that his methods paid better than theirs 
63 


BEAVEE CEEEK FAEM 


they came to many of his ways of doing things. 
They couldnT quite approve when it came to 
giving up good ground to mere lawn and flow- 
ers, and if he had not been so thorough an 
American they would have thought he aped 
English customs in having dinner after tea 
instead of before it, as was their plan. But 
his small faults were overlooked for the value 
of his example and teaching in making the once 
nearly abandoned farms pay when worked with 
brains instead of growls, as he expressed it. 

He had studied law, but did not practise it 
except that he advised his neighbors how to 
keep out of the law courts, and so naturally 
was called “ Squire.” 

Another neighbor, Hiram Prendle, was the 
father of the Twins Len had promised to bring 
as a fighting force in future battle plays. They 
were twins, indeed, but so unlike as to seem 
to belong to different families. Sally Prendle 
was leader in all things active or dangerous, 
though she was a full inch the shorter, and 
Sister Catharine led in things scholastic. The 
latter was dark, and Sally as blonde as a sheaf 
of new-mown hay. 


64 


THE TEREIBLE TOMAHAWK 


Orrey, wearing a pair of moccasins owing to 
the sad state of his feet, was waiting for his 
guests as they arrived, Len bringing the girls 
up to the veranda with the introductory state- 
ment: “ The Twins — Sally, Cathy — Orrey/^ 
The host took otf his cap and bowed with 
quite a manner, which caused the Twins, for 
almost the first time, to agree on something: 
each confided to the other that Orrey was a 
graceful and polite boy. 

How do you do, Orrey? said Sally, and 
added in the same breath : If you fen hitting 
me with the tomahawk I simply wonT play. 
It doesnT hurt me any more to be blacked and 
blued than it does a boy.^^ 

As she made this surprising statement Orrey 
saw that she swung the most beautiful work of 
art — as he supposed it was — he had ever seen. 
It really was a pine tomahawk, made by an 
artist, indeed, who had sandpapered it until it 
looked as soft and smooth as a piece of velvet. 
Orrey was soon to learn how unlike velvet it 
was when one was whacked with it. 

u Twins,” explained Len, “ want to see 
the cave. They had a great, great, oh ! ever so 
65 


BEAVER CREEK FARM 


great-grandmother who hid there from the In- 
dians/^ 

“ All right/^ said Orrey; “ but I^d like one 
of those weapons Sally has if we are to play 
with them.” 

“ That weapon , explained Len, “ is a toma- 
hawk, and Scudder’s got heaps and heaps of 
them.” 

An immediate visit to Scudder proved that 
he had an armory of tomahawks, quite as artis- 
tic as Sally’s, and knives, too, of Indian design, 
but made of , pine, and on the edges of some 
Scudder had smeared red paint in splotches 
delightfully grewsome. 

Now,” said Len, when the party was 
equipped for the warpath, it’s quite a long 
way to the cave, but it won’t seem long if we 
play flight-and-pursuit on the way there.” 

The rules of the game,” spoke up Sally with 
much authority, are that you must not stab 
or tomahawk above the waist line, for if you 
do you put out eyes, and grown folks don’t 
like us to do that.” 

“ My word, I should rather think not ! ” de- 
clared Orrey. 


66 


THE TEREIBLE TOMAHAWK 


The Twins eyed him suspiciously, and it took 
them, as it had Len, some time to understand 
that Orrey’s manner of speech was not an af- 
fectation instead of a misfortune of which he 
was quite unconscious. 

“ I should think it would be jolly good fun, 
though,” added Orrey, even if one did not go 
in for putting out a chap’s eyes.” 

There were signs that Sally was about to 
give Orrey a piece of her mind for using such 
language, but at a signal from Len to he pa- 
tient with the city-bred unfortunate she only 
said : 

‘‘Well, then. I’ll be Jenny McCrea, Len 
will be my captor, Wyandot Panther, Orrey 
will be the American troopers going to her 
rescue, and Cathy can be ” 

“ I won’t be anyone who fights,” said Cathy 
decidedly. 

“ Very well,” assented Sally, “ you can be 
the war correspondent.” 

“ There weren’t any,” declared Cathy, who 
knew her history even if she would not act it. 

“ What ditference does it make who we are? ” 
asked Len. “ We can all fight who want to, 
67 


BEAVER CREEK FARM 


and that^s the thing. Let Cathy be an English 
soldier, and we’ll fen knifing or tomahawking 
her.” 

Assured of this, Cathy agreed to play, and 
the forces divided. Len and Sally were to be 
given a start, while the pursuers turned their 
backs and counted fifty. 

Orrey counted with his eyes shut, savagely 
swinging his tomahawk the while, and thinking 
how he would let Len have it on the legs as 
soon as he was in the chase. When the count 
was over Orrey was for darting forward, but 
Cathy, naturally cautious and knowing more 
about such things, warned him : 

Better search the forest with an eagle eye 
for the lurking foe before venturing into his 
dangerous lair,” she said. 

It will be agreed that even if she were a 
noncombatant, Cathy was well up in the lan- 
guage of warfare. But this is not entirely a 
womanly trait; the same thing has been ob- 
served in some men. 

“ Not much ! ” declared Orrey. “ Let’s up 
and at ’em, guards ! ’’ and he sprang away from 
her restraining hand and rushed forward in 
68 


THE TEBEIBLE TOMAHAWK 


the direction he supposed the foe had taken — 
the direction of the cave, of course, for that 
was the objective. But he had taken not more 
than a dozen steps when, from behind, flew a 
deadly tomahawk, which landed on his leg with 
such a cracking blow as to bring him to his 
knees with tears of pain. 

“ Eun for your life, paleface ! ” shouted 
Cathy, who was already some paces in ad- 
vance; but before he could run for his life, or 
anything else, Len and Sally were on him, 
bearing him down to the ground with a rain of 
knife thrusts by Len, while Sally triumphant- 
ly scalped him, uttering hideous war cries which 
made the operation all the more painful to the 
victim. 

Orrey sat up, rubbing his wounds, and said 
disgustedly to Sally: 

You’re a nice Jenny McCrea, you are! 
You’ve killed me while I was trying to save you 
from this hated red serpent.” 

“ Do you think I was going to stay Jenny 
McCrea while you gave me such a chance for 
a scalping? ” asked Sally indignantly. Now 
we’ll try again. You and Cathy can be Mo- 
69 


BEAVER CREEK FARM 


hawks and Tuscaroras, Len and I will be Hu- 
rons and Algonquins. I suppose even you 
know what that means.” 

What does it mean? ” asked Orrey, getting 
to his feet for this war council. 

“ It means we are deadly enemies,” explained 
Sally. “ Go, faithless Mohawk ! The sun shall 
not set before the brave Algonquin hangs your 
scalp at her belt. Hiro! ” 

“ What in ever is ‘ Hiro ’ ? ” 

Well, what in ever do they teach you in 
the city? ^ Hiro ’ is, ‘I have spoken.’ ” 

The order of the campaign being reversed, 
Orrey and Cathy led off ahead of their pur- 
suers. Orrey was now content to take a girl’s 
advice, and getting a little into the woods they 
made a sharp turn to the right and hid behind 
trees. But when fifty had been counted, and 
Orrey peeked out to see where the foe were 
going, they were not in sight. “ They are 
crawling through the grass to the edge of the 
woods,” whispered Cathy. “ There are bram- 
bles there, and Sally’s dress will be a sight. 
Look out ! ” 

This cry warned Orrey that he would dis- 
70 


THE TEEEIBLE TOMAHAWK 


close their hiding-place if he were not more 
carefnl. 

“ Let me have your funny cap,” she added, 
and you steal off to another tree. Be sure 
you go on your stomach if you donT want to 
be tomahawked again.” 

She took the grape-skin cap, and, as Orrey 
crawled away in the manner she had com- 
manded, smilingly inspected it, then fitted it 
over one hand, which she held out just in sight 
of the enemy. The trick worked: first the 
tomahawk of the Algonquin, then that of the 
Huron, whizzed past the target, the Huron’s 
weapon grazing Cathy’s hand. She uttered 
cries of lament, and the cruel foe dashed toward 
the tree, certain of again finding the untrained 
city Mohawk. 

But Orrey had found a near-by hiding-place, 
and as the ho stiles charged the tree, led on 
by the decoy, Orrey charged their rear in 
sudden fierce attack, overpowered them, and 
whacked them both vigorously. Sally would 
not cry for mercy, but in the melee Len whacked 
Cathy for her cap trick, and at the first blow 
Cathy shrieked aloud. This maddened the 

6 71 


BEAVEE CEEEK FAEM 


brave Algonquin, who flew to her sister’s aid, 
fell upon her ally, Len, and a general mix-up 
followed, in which friend fought friend and foe 
defended foe until, weakened with slaughter 
and laughter, Orrey rolled over and over in 
delight. 

“ I say! ” he exclaimed as he caught his 
breath, ‘‘ this is the greatest sport I ever had.” 

“ It’s just as horrid as it can be I ” cried 
Cathy. It’s not at all nice for girls ; and I 
don’t like to play with boys, anyway.” 

Sally announced that the great Algonquin 
had had revenge upon all her enemies, and was 
willing to call a truce. 

‘‘‘ Unless,” she added, sitting up with sudden 
eagerness, you two boys want to make war 
against me alone. If you do. I’ll be General 
Stark and you can be the Hessians, and I’ll fight 
you single-handed. Hiro!^^ 

Orrey declined this challenge on the ground 
of gallantry, but Len had a more practical rea- 
son. 

“It’s no use fighting Sally alone,” he said. 
“ She can hit as hard as a boy, and does; but 
a fellow can’t hit her as hard as he hits an- 
72 


THE TERRIBLE TOMAHAWK 


other boy, so she’d whack us both black and 
blue while we were just trying to keep her from 
charging the hill. I know her ! ” 

I’m black and blue,” said Sally proudly; 
and she rolled down a stocking to show a shin 
which proved her boast to be true. Come on,” 
she exclaimed after feasting her eyes on her 
honorable wounds, “ let’s race to the cave. We 
can all be American troops chasing Burgoyne 
at Saratoga.” 

Orrey supposed that with girls in the army 
the advance would be around the windfall, but 
Sally not only charged over and through the 
trees, but led the army in the scramble. That 
is, she led the boys, for Cathy decided she 
would be a detachment of scouts and go around 
the abatis. 


73 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE HAUNTED TKEE’s TREASUKE 

A t the cave, which they reached after 
wholly routing Burgoyne and celebrat- 
ing their victory by singing Yankee 
Doodle,” they found Scudder’s ladder and some 
candles, as Scudder said they would, and ex- 
plored every inch of the floor. It was not a 
large cave — about the size of a cottage dining 
room and parlor combined — with nooks like 
cupboards, into which Sally penetrated with her 
candle, and was rewarded by flnding another 
pewter dish, which she said she knew must be- 
long to her mother. They also found dry and 
ragged remains of what had probably been 
baskets, in which they agreed that food and 
dishes were carried by the women who hid from 
real Indians so many, many years ago. The 
boys hunted carefully for some signs of the 
lads who made the cave their headquarters and 
74 


THE TREE^S TREASURE 

issued forth to harass the enemy; but if evi- 
dence of their occupancy were left, they were 
now part of the crumbling heaps here and there 
discovered, but which could not be identified. 
Cathy, who was something of a poet, guessed 
that these were the dust of blankets in which 
the brave youngsters had rolled themselves up 
to sleep, and I^m inclined to believe that her 
guess was correct. She even extemporized 
some verses about the subject, which Orrey af- 
terwards reduced to writing, sending a copy to 
his mother. 

The verses were received with scorn by Sally, 
who was haunted by a secret fear that Cathy, 
by her poetic talents, showed signs of a tend- 
ency to consumption. This curious fear grew 
out of the fact that the only acknowledged poet 
Sally knew was a summer visitor to the neigh- 
borhood, who sometimes called upon her father, 
at which times the visitor drank much hard 
cider. She had asked him once if cider helped 
his poetry, and he replied that he took it rather 
for the pleasure of consumption. However 
much pleasure he might find in consumption, 
Sally was determined that Cathy should not 
75 


BEAVEE CREEK FARM 


become a poet and consumptive, so she vigor- 
ously combated her twin’s verse-making habit. 

“ But it’s more ladylike to make verses than 
to get whacked with a tomahawk,” asserted 
Cathy in defense. 

“ Verses are more dangerous,” declared Sally 
wisely. “ We’ll play anything you like so long 
as it isn’t sickly, like poetry.” 

“ Then let’s make licorice-water wine,” Cathy 
suggested. 

Usually this would have been scouted as be- 
longing to the verse-making sort of thing, but 
they were all thirsty as a result of battle, mur- 
der, and sudden deaths, and any kind of bever- 
age had a pleasant sound. Orrey confessed 
that he did not know about licorice-water wine, 
and was well hooted for this additional evi- 
dence that city children are taught little that 
is of practical use in life. When the operation 
was explained to him, he asked who was to go 
to the village for licorice, and was assured that 
his grandmother would have it. 

“ Mrs. Hulburt always has anything anyone 
needs,” declared Cathy. 

As to licorice, this turned out to be true. 

76 


THE TREE’S TREASURE 


The manufacture of the beverage was left to 
the girls, the boys’ work being the solemn cere- 
mony of burying the filled bottles. So, while 
the Twins were shaving the stick into thin 
pieces, melting it in hot water, bottling and 
corking it, the boys wandered down to where 
Jack and Miss Bolton had been playing tennis, 
on the grass court in front of the house. They 
were not playing when the boys joined them, 
but sitting in the shade of a big old oak tree. 
Neither were they talking much, yet seemed 
happy; a state of bliss which Orrey could not 
understand, for speech to him was ever a ne- 
cessity of a good time. He remarked as much 
to Jack, who answered in surprise: 

“ Why, you don’t expect people to talk under 
a haunted tree, do you? ” 

Orrey opened big eyes. Haunted ! ” he ex- 
claimed. 

“ You must be a particularly ignorant per- 
son,” Jack answered, not to know that this 
tree is haunted. Len knows it.” 

“ You bet you I do ! ” Len responded. “ You 
don’t catch me here after dark! The ghost is 
never here in the daytime.” 

77 


BEAVEE CREEK FARM 


Orrey demanded the story, but Jack said it 
was Mrs. Hulburt’s own special story, and no 
one else was allowed to tell it in that family. 

“ It^s just the place to bury licorice water,’^ 
Len said. “ It turns to wine quicker under a 
haunted tree; and, besides, other kids always 
steal it unless it is buried where they are afraid 
to go.’’ 

“ That’s the honest truth as ever was told,” 
Jack said. “ Take your shovels and dig the 
wine vault on the north side of the tree.” 

“ Which is the north side ? ” asked Orrey, 
gazing vaguely at the heavens and earth. 

“ The side of the tree where the trunk is 
green, of course,” Len explained. 

The Twins appeared, wrapped in long aprons 
loaned by Mrs. Hulburt. They were suspicious- 
ly brown and sticky about their mouths, but 
had bottles honestly filled and securely corked. 
The boys started to dig while Jack made an 
incantation which he said was necessary to keep 
the beverage from spoiling. He held Miss Bol- 
ton’s hand in one of his, Sally’s in the other, and 
with Cathy between her sister and Miss Bolton 
they made a circle around the diggers while 
78 



“ ‘ Dig, Imps, dig !’ ’’ 








THE TREE’S TREASURE 


Jack chanted, in a series of deep bass moans 
and shrill, witchlike shrieks: 

'‘She whose hand I hold in mine — 

Dig, Imps, dig! — 

Is sweeter far than hcorice wine — 

“ You are chanting nonsense ! ” interrupted 
Miss Bolton. 

“ You’ll break the spell, that’s what you’ll 
do,” complained Jack, and resumed his chant: 

" The rose is red, the violet, too — 

Dig, Imps, dig!— 

And what IVe said is news to you, 

But r\\ be switched if it isn’t true; 

If you love me as I love blue — 

Dig, Imps!” 

“ Gee ! ” yelled Len, dropping his shovel. 
‘‘ There’s something mighty queer down there, 
as sure as I’m a foot high.” 

“ Something queer everywhere,” said Jack. 

But what is it. Master Grave Digger*? ” 

Len was down on his knees by the side of 
Orrey, and both boys were digging with their 
fingers as excitedly as if they had found a pot 
of gold. 


79 


BEAVEE CEEEK FAEM 
Jack resumed his incantation chant; 

“Swinzey, swanzay, swappity-hack, 

A crow isn’t white because it is black. 

If you don’t go away you can never come back — 
Dig, Imps, dig! ” 

But Miss Bolton, who was watching the boys 
work, called to him ; 

Do be quiet ; the boys really have some- 
thing.’^ 

“And so have I — here!” exclaimed Jack, 
striking his bosom. But he knelt down by the 
diggers, and his manner suddenly became seri- 
ous enough as he took one of the shovels, told 
the boys to stand aside, and presently uncov- 
ered the top of a metal box, which he soon 
lifted from its resting-place. It was about the 
size of a cigar box. The cover came off easily, 
for the hinges had rusted away, although the 
rest of the box was in good condition; even 
the raised ornamental figures on the cover could 
be traced when the earth was wiped away. 

It was an intensely eager group which 
watched Jack as he freed the box from earth, 
and there was a cry of excitement when he 
80 



THE TREE’S TREASURE 


took from it a little parcel wrapped in some 
preservative cloth, and disclosed a jeweled ring. 

“ By Jingo! ” exclaimed Jack. “ This is a 
find, sure enough! I guess we’ll let uncle and 
aunt do the rest of the unwrapping.” 

As the party started for the house, the Twins 
so excited that they held each other’s hands 
tightly, the lunch bell sounded. But that lunch 
was never eaten; it was not until hours after- 
wards that any of the party left the Squire’s 
room, where all went with the romantic treas- 
ure. Mrs. Hulburt told, at last, what it all 
meant, but as it is now her very best story, I 
shall open a new chapter for her to tell it 
to us. 


81 


CHAPTEE IX 


DUELISTS AND SMUGGLERS 

T HEEE was a family named Dunshee 
in this neighborhood before the war 
— as there is now/^ began Mrs. Hul- 
burt, as she sat in a rocking chair near a win- 
dow, that she might have a good light on the 
trinkets she held in her lap and examined from 
time to time, trinkets which had been taken 
from the box and cleaned. But one branch 
of the Dunshee family was Eoyalist, and went 
back to England. The ancestors of the family 
now here were Patriots, and sent soldiers to the 
American army.” 

She spoke as one who tells a tale of to-day, 
not of a century and a third ago. 

“ In the family of Eesolved Dunshee, the 
Eoyalist branch,” resumed the story-teller, 
there was a daughter named Prudence. Our 
82 


DUELISTS AND SMUGGLEES 


family — Gilbert Hulburt’s, that is — bad known 
Eesolved Dunsbee’s before either moved bere 
from tbe Ebode Island Plantations, and Horace 
Hnlburt, of whom tbe Squire told you yester- 
day, wbo was killed by tbe Indians in tbe am- 
buscade in Oriskany ravine, was engaged to 
marry Prudence Dunsbee. But ber father was 
all for tbe King, and said that no rebel could 
marry bis daughter. Horace would not deny 
that be was a Patriot; but be did not go into 
tbe army at first, thinking be might serve bis 
country in some degree by protecting our home, 
and yet, by not joining tbe army, keep bis en- 
gagement with Prudence. When be beard of 
tbe siege of Colonel Peter Gansevoort at Fort 
Schuyler — Fort Stanwix, it is sometimes called 
— Horace rode over to tbe Dunsbee farm and 
told Prudence that he must enlist. He could 
no longer stay away from tbe fighting while 
Saint Leger, with seventeen hundred men, many 
of them Indians, threatened Colonel Ganse- 
voorPs force of seven hundred. He asked 
Prudence if, even without ber father’s con- 
sent, she would marry him; but she said she 
would not if be joined tbe rebel army. Her 
83 


BEAVER CREEK FARM 


brother was in the British army, and she said 
she never would marry a man who would take 
up arms against a member of her family. 

“ Horace at last agreed to the terms otfered 
by the girl he loved. It is not for us to judge 
him: he loved her dearly; he knew that he 
could be of use to his own and his neighbors^ 
homes by remaining here to organize the boys 
and old men into a guard to protect the women 
from Burgoyne’s Indian raiders. It was not 
cowardice nor fear of fighting which weighed 
with him. He had been taught the use of arms, 
like all gentlemen of that day ; he was a notably 
skillful swordsman; and while he was by na- 
ture more of a student than a soldier, he was 
brave enough, as we shall see. 

No ; it was the promptings of his heart, and 
the knowledge that he could serve the cause at 
home which made him agree to what Prudence 
demanded. 

Horace and Prudence had come to this un- 
derstanding, and the young lovers had gone to 
tell Resolved Dunshee of their agreement, when 
a British officer, accompanied by a few soldiers, 
rode up and presented to Mr. Dunshee a letter 
84 


DUELISTS AND SMUGGLERS 


from the brother of Prudence, asking enter- 
tainment for the officer, who was in these parts 
looking for recruits. 

‘And you’d make a good soldier for the 
King,’ said the officer when he was introduced 
to Horace. 

“ ‘ An hour ago I hoped to make a good sol- 
dier for the Army of the Congress,’ answered 
Horace. ‘I abandon that hope only for a 
greater one.’ 

“ ‘ Oh ! have we a rebel here ? ’ asked the offi- 
cer. ‘ My men would not object to earning the 
same reward the General gives our Indians for 
each white prisoner.’ 

“ ‘ Your men are welcome to take me — if they 
can,’ answered Horace who, though a studious 
young man, and something of an artist, was as 
courageous as all of the Hulburts. 

“ ‘ I’ll not trouble my men to help me take 
the sword away from one traitor,’ said the 
officer, drawing his own sword. But Resolved 
Dunshee interfered, reminding the officer that 
Horace was his guest and entitled to his pro- 
tection, even though he were a rebel. 

“ ‘ I thank you, sir,’ said Horace to Mr. Dun- 
85 


BEAVER CREEK FARM 

shee. Then he turned to the officer and said: 
‘ I have no second at hand, but if you are will- 
ing to act without one I shall ride slowly, and 
you can easily overtake me on the road.’ 

‘ By the Lord ! you are no coward — ^neither 
am I ! ’ exclaimed the officer. ‘ I’ll do better than 
overtake you; I’ll accompany you down the 
road until we have left our host’s grounds.’ 

“ An hour later Horace returned to the Dun- 
shee home, leading a horse on which he sup- 
ported the officer — wounded. Prudence was the 
nurse of that officer, and Horace, when he could, 
rode over to visit her, and take a book, or 
such, to the wounded man. But one day he 
came home with a sad, white face and hopeless 
eyes. Then it was he rode away to join the 
force for the relief of Fort Schuyler, and never 
came back. Prudence had fallen in love with 
the British officer ; and when Burgoyne was de- 
feated the officer returned to Quebec, and Pru- 
dence with him. They were married there. 

“ After the war that branch of the Dunshee 
family returned to England, and our family 
heard nothing from them until many years 
afterwards ; not until Gilbert of this house was 
86 


DUELISTS AND SMUGGLEES 


an old man. We know from his diary and 
from letters of his children what happened 
to make people hereabouts call the oak tree 
haunted. Gilbert Hulburt, when, as I have 
said, he was an old man, received a letter from 
Prudence, then in Montreal, asking if he would 
receive her. She said she wanted to visit the 
grave of Horace, and to return to Gilbert some 
presents Horace had given to her. She sup- 
posed they had been returned, for she had 
asked that they should be when she went away, 
but she had lately found them among her 
brother’s effects — forgotten. 

“ Gilbert wrote to her that he could not for- 
bid her to return, but that he would not see 
her. ‘ Do not bring back to me that poor boy’s 
gifts. You sent him to his death; bring him 
back — not his gifts,’ Gilbert Hulburt wrote to 
Prudence. 

Later, he knew that Prudence came here; 
knew that she had visited the grave of her 
lover, and suspected that she came at night to 
the oak where they used to meet when they 
were young, and there was no sorrow in their 
hearts — only love. Gilbert, indeed, saw Pru- 
7 87 


BEAVER CREEK FARM 


dence there one night, or supposed that it was 
she, for he did not accost her. So did some 
neighbors see her, or see a heavily veiled figure 
of a bent old woman, and the story went around 
that the oak at the Hulburt farm was haunted. 
A story like that, in a country like this, is as 
fresh in the minds of the people to-day as when 
it was started. 

“ Now we know what she went to the old tryst 
for: to bury this little jewel casket. See her 
poor letter, the writing not yet quite faded, so 
well it was preserved in these cloths.” 

Mrs. Hulburt stopped to read again the let- 
ter which had been found in the box with the 
ring, the little painted fan, the jeweled shoe 
buckles — gifts which Horace sent for to far 
countries for his sweetheart: 

“ I bury these here, where my heart has been buried so 
many sad years. 

“ Prudence.” 

That was the letter. 

When his grandmother finished the story, 
Orrey looked at Miss Bolton and, seeing tears 
in her eyes, went to her side and took her 
hand, saying: 


88 


DUELISTS AND SMUGGLEES 


You’ll marry a patriot, won’t you, Miss 
Marion? ” 

If I marry anyone,” site replied, smiling. 
“ But I’m not thinking of marrying at all.” 

Weren’t you? ” asked Orrey in surprise. 
“ I fancied you were when the tears came into 
your eyes while grandmamma told the story.” 

That proves nothing except my sorrow for 
poor Prudence and her lover,” Miss Bolton 
said. Tears were in Cathy’s eyes, too, but 
she can’t be thinking of marrying.” 

“ But I am ! ” declared Cathy unexpectedly. 

When I marry I’m going to marry the man 
I love, so’s I won’t have to wander about haunt- 
ing trees for the man I loved and didn’t marry. 
If Prudence had b.een a patriot I believe I 
should love her.” 

“ I think,” said the Squire, the children de- 
serve a treat as a reward for finding the buried 
treasure. As the evenings are getting cool 
enough for dancing, I move that we have a 
young and old folks’ party as soon as we. can 
get ready.” 

Here was a proposal which put thought of 
even the story of Prudence out of the young 
89 


BEAVEE CEEEK FAEM 


people’s minds, and set them at work writing 
a list of things which would have to be ordered 
from the city. But the list was short, for there 
were all but boundless resources in Mrs. Hul- 
burt’s kitchen, pantry, cellar, and preserve 
closet, to say nothing of the grand finds to be 
made in the attic in the way of materials for 
charades and games. 

If I had my way, no boy or girl should be 
brought up except in a house with an attic. 
Orrey had never seen such a place, and his 
joy amounted to excitement when he and his 
companions began to rummage — ^with grand- 
mamma’s consent and keys to make it easy. 

Oh, the homely delights and mysteries of an 
old attic! Not the kind where careless house- 
wives keep only rubbish which should have been 
thrown away long ago; not where accumulate 
from generation to generation the worthless, 
but the priceless, family heirlooms: old guns 
and swords — not the junk one buys in a curi- 
osity shop, but the very arms carried by those 
who, too, once rummaged and delighted in that 
attic; old uniforms; old ball gowns smelling 
pungently clean from their camphor; old china 
9Q 


DUELISTS AND SMUGGLE ES 


and pewter; old diaries, where one may find 
materials for a shelf full of stories (such as 
this) ; old cooking-receipt books, in precise 
handwriting, with minute directions for the 
making of dishes which I really believe this 
generation could not eat and digest — unless re- 
formed in the matter of out-of-door work and 
play. Those same books have, as supplemen- 
tary reading, so to say, instructions as to the 
setting of the dining table for a ceremonial 
feast, from which one gathers that our ances- 
tors did not feel sure of a meal until there were 
enough cold and hot dishes of meat, fish, and 
game at once on the board as would supply a 
week^s menu in these dyspeptic days. 

These books did not interest Orrey and Len 
so much as they did the Twins, but when the 
boys came upon an old account book, with the 
amounts of money entered in pounds, shillings, 
and pence, they began to find romance fit for 
boys, and men who ever were boys. They took 
one of these books over by a dormer window 
and sat down on the floor to decipher some of 
the stories. 

There was shown how carriage ” — ^which, I 
91 


BEAVEE CEEEK FAEM 


think, meant freight charges — was paid for 
tobacco bronght all the way from Virginia, 
mostly by inland waters; with entries of the 
cost of portage around waterfalls and rapids, 
of hire of Indians and their canoes, of guides 
— and think of needing guides to find a main 
traveled freight route ! And — alas ! that I 
should have to record it — there were entries 
in one book which showed that one old Hul- 
burt was a free trader, indeed (this was even 
before Gilbert Hulburt’s time), for he noted 
charges for the service of a lighter in Narra- 
gansett Bay for taking off from a ship from 
Holland certain packages of sugar, of wine, of 
tea, of silks and woolens, before the ship had 
entered at the customs house. 

“ Honestly,” said Len, when they had, with 
breathless interest, made out this delightful en- 
try, ‘‘I’d almost rather be a smuggler than a 
soldier. Isn’t it just bully ! ” So, with their 
heads touching in their eagerness to scan the 
old pages, they searched for more stories of 
the good old days when gentlemen would boast 
that the glass of wine they freely offered paid 
not a shilling from their pockets to the govem- 
92 


DUELISTS AND SMUGGLEES 


ment of the King who would not grant them 
political representation. 

No romance in the early life of this country ! 
I do declare that access to any well-stored attic, 
which dates from only a generation before the 
Kevolution, will provide anyone with romance 
enough — one who knows good material when he 
sees it. 

When Orrey and Len discovered that very 
free trade entry they started the Twins on a 
search through some old chests for the silk 
gown which looked most like one enjoying the 
distinction of having paid no tax to the King’s 
collector of customs. They found one which 
answered, they thought, but Mrs. Hulburt told 
them that it was more modem; being one, in- 
deed, in which one of her own ancestors had 
been much admired at some grand balls the 
quality of New York gave to celebrate the in- 
auguration of President Washington in the 
spring of 1789. 

“ And from all I could ever see or learn of 
that city,” said Mrs. Hulburt, “New York 
never would have celebrated the event unless 
it could have been made an occasion for social 
93 


BEAVER CREEK FARM 


festivities. New York was not very patriotic 
during the War {the War, with her, meant 
the War of the Revolution), and the Squire 
says it is still a Tory town. But Mrs. Wash- 
ington herself was an aristocrat, and encour- 
aged the social life.” 

That gown was again worn at the party given 
in the children’s honor — but this is taking us 
ahead of our story. 


94 


CHAPTER X 


A THREATENIISTG CLOUD 

O RREY now found that he spent some 
part of each day in the company of 
Scudder, going about the farm and 
stock buildings, learning much; but as he did 
not know that Scudder was instructing him at 
the Squire’s orders — that is, did not know that 
he was taking lessons — ^he enjoyed the school- 
ing. Scudder was a firm believer in the Squire’s 
“ new-fangled ideas,” and explained them to 
Orrey, in his way, with interesting clearness. 

« We’re going in for Holsteins,” he said, as 
Orrey walked sedately by his side through the 
vast dairy barn, where there was a concrete 
silo which held the crop from thirty acres of 
sown com — silage, or ensilage, they call it. 
“ We went in for Jerseys at first,” he contin- 
ued, “ but when we took up hogs we changed 
to Holsteins. Why? ” 


95 


BEAVER CREEK FARM 


“ Why? echoed Orrey. 

“ Because the Holsteins give more milk, 
though their milk does not give more cream. 
But when the cream has been taken out by the 
separator, there is more milk left for the hogs. 
Understand? If you get more hog from the 
same food fed to the cows, you have saved 
just as much grain as you’d have had to feed 
the hogs if you didn’t have that extra milk 
to feed them. Understand ? ” 

Orville thought he understood. When his 
attention flagged Scudder would end his lesson, 
and Orrey would find that about that time Len 
and the Twins had arrived, or that it was time 
for him to go and meet them. One day, after 
his hour with Scudder, Orrey strolled back by 
the Creek (where he hoped some day to see 
a beaver, as Len said he believed he once had), 
and came upon Miss Bolton sitting under a 
great silver poplar. He was very fond of the 
pretty young lady who was always so ready 
to devise indoor games for the children when 
rain kept them in the house, and he halted in 
pained surprise to see that she was softly cry- 
ing. Then he ran forward, exclaiming: Oh, 
96 


A THREATENING CLOUD 


Miss Bolton, what has happened! If anyone 
has been mean to yon, just tell me who it is 
and I’ll — I’ll heat him ! ” 

She rose quickly, crumpling a letter which 
had fallen into her lap. “ No, Orville,” she 
said, “ it is nothing; and you will not say that 
you saw me crying.” 

She took his hand and walked with him a 
little way before she spoke again. “ If you 
have nothing to do before lunch, could you 
get the pony cart and drive me to the city! I 
must meet the train, and would like you to 
drive me.” 

Beaver Creek was a “ city ” because its char- 
ter said it was; otherwise it was a very old 
village of two thousand inhabitants, “ all of 
whom,” Jack said, had lived there two thou- 
sand years.” It had a graded school, where 
not only the city children went, but the children 
of the near-by districts which did not main- 
tain their district schools. It was because the 
Squire did not approve of his neighborhood 
children going into the city for their schooling 
that he decided that his district school should 
be revived. It was this matter which started 
97 


BEAVEE CREEK FARM 


his correspondence with the president of a 
woman’s college, and brought about the invi- 
tation to Miss Bolton. The Squire learned 
frorn the college president much which engaged 
his and Mrs. Hulburt’s interest and sympathy 
for Miss Bolton. She was an orphan, and the 
legal ward of a stepfather who was not repre- 
sented in pleasing colors in the president’s let- 
ters. In fact, it was her stepfather’s misman- 
agement of her little fortune which had made 
Miss Bolton eager to begin wage earning. 

Orrey knew nothing of this; but if he had, 
he could not have taken a quicker or more 
violent dislike to the man who was already at 
the station when Orrey and Miss Bolton ar- 
rived, and who came up to the pony cart to 
speak to her. He was short, red, and pom- 
pous. He stared back at Orrey in a way to 
satisfy the boy that his opinion of the man 
had been plainly expressed, and then motioned 
Miss Bolton to leave the cart. 

They walked up and down the station plat- 
form, usually out of Orrey’s sight, but his occa- 
sional glimpses of her confirmed his first bad 
98 


A THEEATENING CLOUD 


opinion of her stepfather — for such the pom- 
pous little man was. Orrey saw that she was 
crying again, and that the man was talking 
angrily; then the boy handled the horsewhip 
as if with the purpose of using it on the man 
if the interview or Miss Bolton’s tears did not 
soon stop. 

When the interview did end, just as Orrey 
had determined to make a demonstration with 
the whip, the man drove off to the inn and 
Orrey started home, with Miss Bolton, sad 
and silent, at his side. At last she said to 
him: 

I should like it if you would not speak to 
anyone at the Farm about this. The man is 
my stepfather, and he is to call on the Squire. 
But I would rather that no one else — young 
Mr. Hulburt — should know about this — yet.” 

It was two days later that Mr. Marvin, Miss 
Bolton’s stepfather, called at the Farm. “ I 
find that my daughter — ” began the caller. 

Your stepdaughter,” corrected the Squire. 

“ My stepdaughter, if you please,” said Mr. 
Marvin, turning more than usually red. “ I 
find her determined in this foolish notion of 
99 

Lora 


BEAVER CREEK FARM 


earning lier own living. I believe she is en- 
couraged in this by yon, and I come to point 
out why you should help end such nonsense.’^ 
“ Well? said the Squire. 

Well,’^ continued the man, ‘‘ Miss Bolton, 
besides being my stepdaughter, is also my ward 
as to the affairs of the little property left to 
her by her mother, and will continue to be such 
until she is twenty-five years old — some three 
or four years.^^ 

Well? repeated the Squire. 

“ It is my duty to consider her welfare in 
all things, and an important matter in any 
young woman’s life is the question of her mar- 
riage.” 

Doubtless,” said the Squire. 

In that respect,” the other went on, it is 
proper that Marion should accept the home I 
offer her. She should not waste her youth 
exiled in this forsaken land, where, of course, 
she cannot meet any man of her social posi- 
tion — cannot expect to find a husband, in 
short.” 

She is of legal age,” said Squire Hulburt, 
“ and if she prefers to waste her life — I do 
100 


A THEEATENING CLOUD 


not agree that she would be doing so — in earn- 
ing her independence, do you expect me to help 
you make her change her mind? 

“ As a sensible man of the world, yes. That 
is precisely what I think you should do.” 

Mr. Marvin,” said the Squire, “ I asked 
Miss Bolton to visit us here only after making 
inquiries concerning her through a gentleman 
in whose judgment I have entire confidence. I 
wanted a young woman equipped for the sim- 
ple duties of the district school, and who, also, 
would be an agreeable companion for Mrs. Hul- 
burt: one we should like to make our guest, 
not our boarder. Mrs. Hulburt has already 
become attached to the young lady, and as to 
her salary, it will be my pleasure to make it 
up to a proper sum beyond what the school 
pays her. In view of these facts, do you still 
think it is my duty to urge Miss Bolton to 
return to your home ? ” 

‘‘ I certainly do,” replied the other. “ There 
is no question of the young lady having to earn 
her living, and at my home she will meet gen- 
tlemen among whom I can find her a desirable 
husband.” 


101 


BEAVEE CEEEK FAEM 


At your home! ” the Squire asked with a 
slight emphasis which made the other flush 
angrily. 

Yes, sir, in my home. I hope you do not 
doubt my social standing.” 

“ I have no doubts whatever in the matter,” 
replied the Squire. I would sacrifice much 
rather than interfere between a proper guar- 
dian and his ward; I am not one to meddle in 
such atfairs until I am convinced that to do so 
is right. I suggest that we leave the matter 
in that state for the present. I may correspond 
with you later.” 

The bow with which the Squire ended this 
speech showed that the interview also was at 
an end, and the caller drove away. 

When Squire Hulburt received word that Mr. 
Marvin was to call on him, he sent Jack off to 
attend to some business for him; and Miss 
Bolton, at the Squire’s suggestion, rode with 
Jack, so the young couple did not know of the 
visit. The Squire and his wife, to whom he 
gave a report of the interview, were glad that 
Jack and Marion had been absent; they looked 
so happy when they galloped back it would 
102 


A theeaten'ing cloud 

have been a pity to have clouded such sun- 
shiny lives. 

“ Lunch, auntie ! Lunch for a regiment, for 
here we are!” shouted Jack, as he helped 
Marion to dismount. “ The man whose soul 
would not be filled with joy after such a ride 
— and in such company,” he added in a whis- 
per to his companion, “ would be fit for trea- 
son and a spoiled lunch.” 


8 


103 


CHAPTER XI 


THE PAKTY 

T he afternoon of the party fell on such 
an early September day as only the 
mountains know: clear, bright, warm 
and cool at the same time. 

At almost the last minute Miss Bolton begged 
Mrs. Hulburt to let her help prepare the sup- 
per, but not appear before the guests. ‘‘ I 
haven’t a thing to wear,” she said. “ You must 
know that I had no idea I was coming to such 
a home as this. It isn’t at all the kind of place 
the girls at college who had taught district 
schools told me it would be; and besides my 
wash frocks I have only some stout woolen 
gowns — not the kind of thing one should wear 
at so grand a party.” 

But your gown is all prepared,” Mrs. Hul- 
burt said. “ Haven’t the children told you 
about it f ” 


104 


THE PARTY 


The children, more particularly the Twins, 
with the help of Mrs. Hulbnrt and Mrs. 
Prendle, had been working on the very gown 
which graced Mrs. Washington’s receptions, 
and which, with an airing now and then for 
a fancy dress occasion, had reposed in cedar 
and camphor for more than a century. It was 
at that moment spread out in Miss Bolton’s 
room; and when she had donned it, with the 
aid of the admiring Twins, she was, as they 
declared, “ just the sweetest, old-fashioned- 
picture-book young lady ” they’d ever seen. 
The ladies of Mrs. Washington’s court ” wore 
amazingly low necks and short waists, but any 
lack of material had been supplied by Mrs. Hul- 
burt’s laces, arranged, largely, by Cathy, who 
was a genius when it came to constructing a 
dress — as much so as Sally was when it came 
to ripping and tearing and soiling them, Mrs. 
Prendle declared. 

The party began at four : four to nine,” 
the invitations read. Thus early to begin on 
account of the children, and early to end be- 
cause there was harvesting work still to be 
done, and the farmers had to be about at sun- 
105 


BEAVEE CREEK FARM 


rise if they hoped to have their hired help 
also about at that invigorating hour. Not an 
invitation had been declined, not a guest failed 
to appear. There were more reasons for this 
than the fame of Mrs. Hulburt’s party repasts ; 
the story of the found love tokens was known, 
and' every woman was eager to see the precious 
evidences of a love romance she had heard 
from her childhood. Also, everyone wanted to 
meet the new teacher, and the more distant 
wanted to see the Squire’s city-bred grandson, 
Orville. 

So Miss Bolton, laughing at herself in her 
quaint old gown, helped Mrs. Hulburt welcome 
the guests on the veranda as they drove up; 
some in carriages which dated with Marion’s 
gown, some in automobiles — these to the angry 
remonstrances of Towser. The women lost 
little time in inspecting the love treasures ; the 
men lounged about the veranda, talking crops 
and live stock with the Squire; the children 
shyly received their introductions to Orrey, and 
there was a quiet hum of gossip until Jack 
appeared on the scene with a programme of 
sports and games which were to be carried 
106 


THE PARTY 


on until six; then supper, then dancing, he 
said. 

Jack knew every farmer, the name of every 
child, the housewifely merits of every matron, 
the sentimental history of every young man 
and woman. He had passed most of his time, 
when not in school or college, at Beaver Creek 
Farm — for he was an orphan — and was a great 
favorite. Many of the farmers asked him 
bluntly how about the talk that he was to 
go into business with Orrey’s father? That 
had been announced months ago, yet here 
he was playing farmer after the date when he 
said he was to enter business. Jack assured 
his questioners that his uncle could not get 
along without him, but the farmers’ wives 
looked at Marion and smiled at his ex- 
planation. 

How I wish I had space and time to tell of 
that supper! But if I had I could not do it 
justice. Cold chicken, cold turkey, cold roast 
little pig, of course; and when you have eaten 
the cold stuffing of a roast little pig as com- 
pounded at Beaver Creek Farm, you will have 
another good reason for giving thanks for life. 
107 


BEAVER CREEK FARM 


Btit where the critical palate and eyes of the 
guests were most employed was with the cakes, 
pies, tarts, preserves, and such noble dishes. 
Yes, I say dishes; not mere crumbs of dessert 
to be trifled with after all appetite has dis- 
appeared. Why, on that very occasion. Jack 
Hulburt — he said it was to encourage the chil- 
dren — took solid slices of cake and overlaid 
each mouthful with a scoop of comb honey as 
big as a teaspoon would disengage; and he 
repeated the operation until his aunt beamed 
on him, saying: “ Jack, dear, ifs good to see 
some one with a real appetite. Mr. Prendle, 
have you tried the tomato marmalade with the 
pig? Mr. Severance, do let me give you an- 
other cup of coffee.’^ 

Cotfee! I wonder if it is because our an- 
cestors forbore tea, upon a notable occasion, 
that they learned, and we have inherited, the 
art of making good cotfee? You may travel 
the world over, but you will never drink its 
like. Grandmamma Hulburt was famous for 
her cotfee among a people famous for making 
and drinking that most delectable beverage. 
The quantity of it her guests drank would 
108 


THE PARTY 


amaze those who restrict themselves to one or 
two sips of it at any hour later than breakfast. 
The kitchen was like a hothouse with the fra- 
grance of it, the whole house faintly breathed 
its perfume, and the refilling of the great urn 
before Mrs. Hulburt was the special task of 
one fortunate maid. Coffee, which you thought 
as black as night until you discovered a gleam, 
a shaft of glorious ruby color deep in the cup; 
which turned to liquid ivory as you poured in 
the cream — which would just pour. But we 
must on with the dance. 

This was in the great room, opened only for 
such occasions, with a floor as glary as ice,’^ 
Len informed Orrey when they went in to see 
the old folks — all but the children — form in 
ranks for the Virginia Reel. On a little plat- 
form at one end were the musicians: a violin, 
a bass fiddle, a flute, and a piano. The vio- 
linist called off, and anyone forgetful of the 
figures was admonished sharply by name. Mrs. 
Hulburt and Len’s grandfather, a fine young 
man of seventy-five, led the dance. 

Grandpa,” said Mrs. Hulburt to her part- 
ner — everyone in the community called him 
109 


BEAVER CREEK FARM 


grandpa — do you know how many years ago 
it is that we first danced the reel together? ” 

“ I do, but I won’t tell,” answered her gallant 
partner promptly. 

I will, then,” she said. “ It is just fifty 
years go this Fall.” 

You were but a chit in short clothes,” 
grandpa quickly explained. He nodded to the 
musicians as a sign to begin, and with a whack 
of his heel the violinist struck up the inspiring 
old tune, and as he called, or chanted, the fig- 
ures he kept up the rhythmic tapping with his 
foot which the dancers took up with hand- 
clapping. Up ,and down, across and around, 
back and forward, swing and reverse, march 
and countermarch, with such jollity as you 
would think would satisfy any hostess. But 
Mrs* Hulburt showed that she was not yet 
quite satisfied. Presently she was: suddenly, 
with a quick backward step and a jerk of each 
foot behind the other. Grandpa Severance dis- 
posed of his boots! Threw them off, if you 
please, and neatly kicked them against the 
wall behind him. Then, indeed, the dance 
went on! 


110 


THE PARTY 


But we shall miss a good time if we do not 
go out on the veranda. It was almost dark 
now; that dim light which is more fearsome 
than total darkness, for you can see things to 
be afraid of, if you want to. Jack, with Miss 
Bolton’s help, was starting a sheet-and-pillow- 
case ghost hunt. Here was adventure as well 
as sport. The children liked it, of course, for 
it’s no end of fun to get a good scare when you 
know there isn’t anything to be scared at, yet 
things are scaresome, after all. The young 
girls and young men left the dancing to the 
old folks and joined in the games. One was 
for a girl to venture out to the haunted tree, 
after touching the ghostly figure she dared to 
follow her. It showed the astonishing extent 
of human intelligence that scarcely a girl failed 
to touch the man she wanted to defy, when to 
an unconcerned onlooker each figure was ex- 
actly like every other. 

There were thrilling screams, sudden laughs, 
then as abrupt but more eloquent silences as 
the young men overtook the girls — usually in 
the very darkest shadow of the haunted tree. 
Sally dared anyone to follow her] she was not 
111 


BEAVER CREEK FARM 


afraid of man, boy, or ghost; but no other 
little girl had her daring. Cathy was so de- 
lightfully frightened that she would only hold 
Orrey’s hand and utter little moans of fear, 
and actually forbade Orrey to follow Sally who, 
she felt certain, would be caught up by the 
ghost of Prudence and carried off to Canada 
— or, even worse, to England itself! 

But the clock will not stay its fateful hands 
even on the best and happiest of nights, and 
soon the ghosts were recalled to earth for 
the purpose of answering parents, who re- 
minded the laughing spirits that it was time 
to go home. Lensie Severance, as a further 
mark of honor, was to remain with Orrey all 
night. 

He did so; and even after all the rest of the 
house was in silence, from their room came 
half-smothered yells of defiance, and such 
“ pluffs ! of pillows striking heads that I 
suspect there was a famous battle raging there 
long after Grandmamma Hulburt had heard 
their prayers, and said she knew they would 
soon be asleep as they must be nearly tired to 
death. But feather pillows, I believe, were 
112 


THE PARTY 


originally invented for warfare, and then 
adopted as head rests when it was discov- 
ered how nice they were to lay a head upon 
which has been battered by them for an hour. 
They are so exactly adapted to the end: they 
make no noise except that ‘‘ plutf ! ” which is 
not likely to waken mother. Besides, as the 
conditions of the fight imply bare feet, there 
is no noisy tramping. Certainly, pillows were 
designed for warfare when any other weapon 
would call down the whole house in sleepy 
protest. 

Once, when battle was suspended for gossip, 
Orrey asked Len how he had managed so well 
at the party with his shoes. “ They nearly 
ground your feet off the other day,’^ he said, 
“ but to-night you were as spry in them as 
your grandpa in his stockings.” 

“ Oats,” responded Len. 

“ How, oats ! ” 

“ DonT you know even that? ” asked Len, in 
surprise at the dense ignorance in which city 
boys grope as to all useful matters. 

I only know oatmeal,” confessed Orrey. 

How do you cure shoes with oats ? ” 

113 


BEAVER CREEK FARM 


Well,” explained Len, “ if your shoes hurt 
you, take some oats in a peck measure and 
sprinkle them with water. Then you pack the 
oats into your shoes, turn over the tops, and 
tie ’em so’s the oats can’t bulge out that way — 
and. there you are.” 

“ Where are you? ” inquired the puzzled city 
hoy. 

“ Why, the damp oats swell, and have to 
bulge. If they can’t bulge out of the tops they 
bulge the feet leather, and make them as easy 
to wear as no shoes at all.” 

I’ll try that some time,” said Orrey. “ It 
must be more fun than putting trees into your 
shoes at night.” 

“ Better be careful,” warned Len. “ My dad 
brought home a new pair of boots, filled the 
feet with wet oats, tied up the legs, set ’em on 
a sawbuck in the wood shed, forget ’em — and 
what do you think happened? ” 

Sprouted,” suggested Orrey. 

“ Busted ! ” announced Len. I saw ’em 
first, and thought they were two dragons’ heads. 
The top sides of the feet were lifted right otf 
the soles, like big open mouths, and all the 
114 


THE PAETY 


pegs stuck up out of the soles — the lower jaws 
— like teeth. Gee! but my dad was talkative 
when he saw ’em.” 

Their long pillow fights, their sleepless talks, 
resulted in Orrey and Len having a surprising 
adventure that very night. 


115 


CHAPTER XII 

OKKEY TACKLES A BUEGLAR 

O RREY and Len had a dozen times 
wished each other good night, and 
then began to talk again in whispers. 
But each good night was a little more sleepily 
said than the one before, and at last it seemed 
that the long, exciting night was to end in 
slumber when Len sat up in bed, clutched 
Orrey’s arm, and whispered: What’s that? ” 
Orrey listened, heard a sound under the win- 
dow which opened from the lower floor on their 
side of the house near some pines, and replied : 
“ Ghosts ! ” Then he giggled, and Len giggled, 
too, but remained sitting up, listening intently. 

“ Honestly, there’s somebody down there,” he 
said in another minute. 

Orrey, who had not been certain that what 
he heard was not the sound of a growing wind 
116 


A BURGLAR 


among the trees, now became wide awake, and 
agreed that the sound was like that of some 
one fussing about the window. 

“ It’s some one trying really to frighten us,” 
he said. Jack, most likely. He knows we 
were sort of pretended frightened, and now he’s 
trying really to frighten us. Let’s give him a 
surprise,” and he jumped out of bed. 

What you going to do! ” asked Len doubt- 
fully. 

“ Give him a surprise. Come along, if you’re 
not afraid.” 

No more afraid than you! ” declared Len, 
hopping out of bed as he spoke. 

They crept softly downstairs to the kitchen 
door, opened it, stepped out into the cool night 
air, and then stopped to confer. 

“ If it isn’t Jack,” Orrey said confidently, 

it’s some one Towser knows, because if it 
wasn’t he’d be making things lively.” 

That’s so,” Len assented, reassured. “ If 
it isn’t Jack, I know who it is; it’s Alex Con- 
verse. He’s the greatest cut-up I ever saw.” 

“ We’ll give him something to cut up about,” 
Orrey remarked. We’ll get into the bunch of 
117 




BEAVER CREEK FARM 


trees behind him, and when I say ‘ Go ! ^ we’ll 
make a dash. I’ll make a low tackle of his 
legs and yon bang his head down. Before he 
can throw us off we’ll wallop him good.” 

The prospect of giving such a surprise to 
Alex Converse tickled Len so much that he lost 
all his doubts, and they softly made their way 
to the pines from which, sure enough, they saw 
a figure at the window just under their bed- 
room. 

“ All ready? ” whispered Orrey. 

“ All ready ! ” answered Len, breathing hard. 

“ Go ! ” said Orrey, and they darted out from 
the shadow of the trees. They were barefoot, 
of course, and approached the man from be- 
hind, and might have made the assault a com- 
plete surprise, but just as they dashed into the 
dim light of the half-clouded sky a sharp whis- 
tle sounded from near the front of the house. 
At the sound the man at the window wheeled 
sharply around. Then a curious thing hap- 
pened: at the instant he turned both boys saw 
from his general appearance, the rough clothes 
revealed even in that dim light, that the man 
was neither Jack nor Alex, nor anyone they 
118 


A BURGLAR 


knew. They gasped in dismay, but did not 
falter in their rush. 

All this occurred in a breath, and the man 
turned but a part of a second before the rushers 
were upon him. They carried out their pro- 
gramme as planned, except for that good wal- 
loping. Orrey dived with all the impetus of his 
rush, caught the man’s legs low, and brought 
him down with the help of Len tugging at his 
head, but in another second the man roughly 
threw them aside and scuttled away into the 
shadow. As the boys lay sprawling on the 
grass, realizing that they had had quite a 
different experience from the one they had 
planned. Jack, in pyjamas, came running 
around from the kitchen door. 

“ What in the dickens are you kiddies up to 
now% ” he asked. 

They told him all that had happened, and he 
listened in silence ; but when they had finished, 
he said laughingly, or seeming to laugh — ^but 
the boys were too excited to notice that it was 
a pretense: 

“ I’ll bet a cookie Len was right. Perhaps it 
wasn’t Alex — though it was just like that cut- 
9 119 


BEAVEE CEEEK FAEM 


up — but it was him or some of the fellows, 
dressed in a hired man’s clothes. We won’t 
say anything about it in the house, but we’ll 
have a laugh on the fellow when we iden- 
tify him.” 

This reassured the boys, and Jack went back 
to their room with them, tucked them in bed, 
and left them to go to his own bed, he said; 
but he went out again. First, all around the 
house, examining doors and windows; then he 
thought of Towser. What had become of that 
faithful watchman? Towser’s faint bark was 
the answer. Jack found him a prisoner in a 
stable, where he had been locked in, by mis- 
take, when the last of the company’s carriages 
had been taken out. The first thing Jack no- 
ticed when he lit a stable lantern was that every 
hair along Towser’s spine stood up like a bris- 
tle. He growled savagely, and ran out of the 
barn, sniffing the air eagerly. Jack called him 
back when he found a scent which interested 
him very much, and held him by his collar while 
he made a more thorough search of the house 
and grounds. 

“ No cut-up did this,” he said to himself when 

120 


A BURGLAR 


he returned to the window and found marks 
of a jimmy on the sill. 

In the morning he waited until he could speak 
to his uncle alone before he told him of the 
night’s adventure. The Squire was able to 
throw some light on what probably had hap- 
pened. He recalled that on the morning be- 
fore, when he sold the last of the Jerseys to 
a couple of buyers, some strange men were 
hanging about the stock barn where the buyers 
had paid him cash. He thought nothing of 
that, for he knew that Scudder was hiring ex- 
tra hands, and supposed they were men apply- 
ing for work. He had not driven into the city 
to deposit the money because of the party. 

‘‘ That accounts for it,” he said to Jack after 
recalling the incident. “ Those were tramps, 
or perhaps what are called yeggmen; and it 
may be that they follow cattle buyers on the 
lookout for just such an opportunity as I gave 
them by not going to the bank with the cash, 
ril speak to the constable to-day, and have him 
look out for any strangers about here. We 
are seldom bothered with them. But we’ll not 
alarm your aunt or Miss Bolton.” 

121 


BEAVEE CREEK FARM 


The Squire drove off to the village behind 
his favorite Morgans; Jack and Marion went 
away in the pony cart to make some visits; 
Mrs. Hulburt was busy with the household af- 
fairs of the day after the party; Scudder was 
rushing his farm work, for there were signs 
of an approaching storm; and the boys, tired 
with excitement and loss of sleep, and burdened 
with the secret of their midnight adventure, 
passed a lazy morning in the attic. 

“ What’s good to do on a day like this, any- 
way? ” asked Orrey after lunch. “ It’s so close 
and hot that Indians would be too much like 
work.” 

We might be Indians in a canoe,” suggested 
Len. Canoeing is never too hot, because when 
you get warm you can tumble overboard.” 

So they strolled down to the Pond and em- 
barked in the canoe Jack had sent for since 
Miss Bolton’s arrival. They paddled lazily 
about the lovely sheet of water, making several 
landings to be sure that no Indians lurked in 
the shadow of the swamp oaks, that no deer 
were waiting to be killed for food for their 
wigwam, or that no exhausted trapper needed 
122 


A BUEGLAR 


their aid. This was as good as playing Indians 
after all, and nearly the whole afternoon passed 
before they recalled that Miss Bolton had 
spoken for a supply of cat-tails for decorative 
uses. 

At the lower end of the Pond there was a 
perfect treasury of cat-tails and other decora- 
tive water growths, making a swampy bay into 
a rough bit of ground which was seldom vis- 
ited except by stray sheep. They pushed qui- 
etly into the dim, green thicket, which parted 
for their canoe and closed softly behind them. 
When they stopped they could see the reeds 
shake from some hidden force. 

‘‘ Fish,” explained Len. The reeds are the 
forests of the fish, and when they run against a 
tree it shakes. DoesnT it look funny? ” 

Bully! ” Orrey said. Pll bet it’s just the 
same in here as it was when there were Indians 
about.” 

“ Of course,” assented Len. “ What would 
change it? ” 

“ I wonder if there are any truly wild Indians 
about here now? ” Orrey mused in a tone to 
encourage Len. 


123 


BEAVEE CEEEK FAEM 


Well,’’ responded the other, after a thought- 
ful pause, they say there aren’t any.” He 
looked so knowing and mysterious that Orrey 
lowered his voice as he asked, in the delicious 
hope that it might be so : “ Did you ever see 
any? ” 

I don’t exactly say that I’ve seen any,” Len 
admitted, “ but I’d just like to know what some 
of the things are I have seen in the woods 
when it’s growing dark, and you wish you had 
gone out into the opening a little earlier. That’s 
just what rd like to know.” 

“ What do they look like — those things ? ” 
asked Orrey, thrilled by the thought. 

Can’t say exactly,” Len replied. Of 
course, if I could say exactly I would know 
whether they were Indians or ” 

“By jiminy! What’s thatV^ interrupted 
Orrey. 

Len listened, then they whispered nervously. 
“ I guess we’ve talked ourselves into hearing 
things,” Len whispered. “ They say you can.” 


124 


CHAPTER XIII 


THE EMPTY CANOE 

O RREY and Len peered eagerly in the 
direction from which they thought 
they heard voices. Using the paddle 
as a pole, Orrey cautiously punted the canoe 
ahead, and the sounds gradually proved to be 
human voices, beyond doubt. 

Scudder, or some of the hands after lost 
sheep,” Len suggested. 

Orrey made no answer, but silently shoved 
the canoe nearer the sound until he sharply 
backed water, and looked over his shoulder with 
such startled eyes that Len nearly upset the 
boat trying to get into a place where he could 
see what had so astonished his companion. 
They were nearer the bank than either had 
supposed, but the thick growth had concealed 
it until a gust of wind waved the reeds and 
125 


BEAVER CREEK FARM 


gave them fitful views of a scene which made 
their hearts pound fast and hard. 

Seated about the embers of a fire on which 
they evidently had cooked a meal were three 
men. They had finished eating, and now were 
smoking pipes as they gossiped over something 
which amused two of them. The third, who 
was not amused but looked sour over the chaff- 
ing, faced in the boys^ direction — and both of 
them knew that they saw the man they had 
attacked the night before! He was nursing a 
blackened eye with a rag he now and then 
dipped in a can of water by his side, and lis- 
tened, not pleasantly, to the others. 

‘‘ I^m telling you right,’’ said one of them. 
“ Just two kids in their nighties ; but Mull, here, 
swore he had been rough-housed by a gang of 
farm hands. Why, he went down before them 
like he’d been hammered with the night stick 
of the strongest cop on the force. When I 
asked Mm to go back with me, and said we’d 
gag the kids with their own nighties, he said 
he’d see me farther first. Then the young swell 
comes out, chases them in the house, and makes 
a hunt with the dog, and I knew the game was 
126 


THE EMPTY CANOE 


up for the night. But if the old one hasn’t 
stowed the stuif in the bank to-day, we can 
try again to-night.” 

“ And get shot full of holes,” growled the 
man with the bruised eye. “ The swell will put 
the whole country wise to what he knows, and 
they’ll be waiting to give us a hot reception.” 

Mull is right,” said the man who had not 
before spoken. “ As soon as it’s dark, us for 
a freight train, and the next county. Tell me 
again: how did those kids give you such a 
lovely glim! They sure did put it out of busi- 
ness.” 

Kids nothing ! ” the other answered angrily. 
“ They were farm hands, and husky ones at 
that. One gives me the heel, and the other lams 
me coco on the ground good and plenty.” 

The others laughed at this, and went on with 
their bantering. 

Orrey, as softly as possible, poled the canoe 
back to clear water, and then made it fly to a 
safe landing ; but neither boy said a word until 
they were ashore and hidden in a clump of 
swamp oak. 

Which of us will go home to the house and 

127 


BEAVER CREEK FARM 


tell! gasped Orrey at last. Pd like awfully 
to stay here and watch them. Jiminy! Real 
burglars ! ” 

“ I’d like to stay, too,” pleaded Len. 

Of course,” said Orrey; but you can get 
to the house quicker than I; you know all the 
cut-offs.” 

“ That’s so,” admitted Len regretfully. “ I’ll 
go, but you tell me everything that happens. 
Everything ! ” 

I will,” Orrey assured him ; and Len struck 
off for the house by the short paths he knew 
so well. 

Only Mrs. Hulburt and the maid servants 
were at the house when Len arrived and quickly 
told his story. 

Go to Scudder,” Mrs. Hulburt commanded, 
when she understood that Orrey had been left 
near the hiding place of the men. “ As sure 
as that boy is the Squire’s grandson, he’ll look 
for all the danger there is. 0 Lensie! you 
should have made Orville come home with 
you.” 

“ One of us had to stay to watch them,” ex- 
128 


THE EMPTY CANOE 


plained Len. It’ll be growing dark soon, and 
then they’ll be off.” 

“ Go to Scudder,” she repeated; and herself 
called up the Squire by telephone, and said to 
him simply : Come home as fast as you can.” 

Len soon found Scudder, who whittled a stick 
as he listened to the end of the story. 

“ I suspicioned that something was wrong 
to-day,” was his comment, as he put his hand 
on the head of the dog, who looked as if he 
had half -understood the boy’s story. “ Tow- 
ser’s been trying all day to tell me that some- 
thing was wrong somewhere, but I’ve been so 
busy I didn’t rightly listen to him. Come, 
Towse ! ” 

The man and the dog and the boy hurried as 
fast as they could around the Pond to the upper 
end, yet it was almost dark when they reached 
there, and came upon — the canoe pulled up on 
the bank, but no Orrey, no men, in sight ! 

“ Back and tell the folks ! ” cried Scudder. 

It’ll be raining soon, so Towser and I must 
follow the scent while it lasts ! ” 

Squire Hulburt had often set out from the 
bank to see what time he could make to the 
129 




BEAVER CREEK FARM 


Farm behind the pair of Morgans, but he never 
succeeded in a fair trial. Some one always 
stopped him on the road, to ask what the news 
was about the new creamery, or some gossip 
of their common affairs. But this time the 
Morgans had a fair chance to make a record. 
They did it! Many a neighbor, standing in 
the road, waved for the Squire to stop, but he 
shouted that he must hurry on. They soon 
learned the reason: those who had telephones 
were called to Beaver Creek Farm to join the 
hunt for the kidnappers; others received the 
news from galloping horsemen, who shouted 
orders to picket the roads ; to put men on duty 
who had guns, and would shoot if necessary. 

“ The Squire’s grandson — the handsome little 
fellow we saw last night at the party — Orville’s 
boy — ^kidnapped by men who tried to rob the 
house ! ” The word flew over the district ; farm- 
ers and their grown sons were soon hurrying 
to their assigned places, or to the Squire, to 
report to him. Mrs. Prendle drove over with 
her husband, to comfort and aid Mrs. Hulburt ; 
and the Twins so begged to be taken that they, 
too, were bundled into the carriage. 

130 


THE EMPTY CANOE 


Len’s report of the men’s intention to make 
for the railroad as soon as it was dark was the 
only clew ; so every road they could take in that 
direction, every farm they could cross and strike 
the road, was soon swarming with men and 
dogs, eager in the hunt. All men were armed. 
“ If you have to shoot to stop them, shoot ! ” 
was the Squire’s order. Signals were agreed 
upon to recall, to announce the finding, a new 
clew, or the need of help. 

After Jack had assisted his uncle arrange the 
hunt he started out alone, but was soon joined 
by two aids who would not be denied — Sally 
and Len. The latter, sore at heart because he 
thought Mrs. Hulburt blamed him for leaving 
Orrey alone to watch the men, was determined 
to go on the hunt. While twin Cathy soberly 
ground cotfee, or spread bread for sandwiches, 
content to give these womanly aids, Sally, see- 
ing Len follow Jack, quietly followed Len. 

“ All right,” said Jack, after vainly ordering 
his young volunteers to return to the house. 
‘‘ You couldn’t be a bit wetter after a minute 
of this rain if you jumped into the Pond. So 
come on. But, mind you, keep close to me.” 
131 


BEAVER CREEK FARM 


The threatening storm broke fiercely almost 
with the setting of the sun; then Mrs. Prendle 
and Miss Bolton turned from their anxious 
peering into the darkness, and helped Mrs. 
Hulburt in the practical work of preparing 
refreshments for the wet and tired hunters 
when they should return. 

And they will return with Orville,” Mrs. 
Hulburt said, as she went quietly about her 
homely duties. I have prayed to God.” 


132 


CHAPTER XIY 


KIDNAPPED 

W HEN he was first left alone, Orrey 
debated whether he should go around 
to the head of the Pond by land, to 
watch the men, or return by canoe to the reeds. 
He decided upon the latter course, for his play 
at Indians had taught him that he made a won- 
derful amount of noise traveling by land. The 
alternative of not going back at all did not 
occur to him. Physical caution had been left 
out of his makeup, and in city streets seldom 
out of sight of a policeman, always accompa- 
nied by nurse, governess, or parent, he had never 
suspected the evil there is in such men as he 
was returning to watch. 

He tried to find his way back to the place 
where the discovery had been made, but there 
was no trail through the reeds, his course al- 
133 


BEAVEE CREEK FARM 


tered, and where he now pushed in the canoe 
the water growth was thinner. He was pleased 
with this, however, for he had a better view 
of the men, never thinking that in such a place 
his own discovery by them would be more like- 
ly. They were not particularly evil-looking; 
one, who laughed and chatted the most, was 
rather agreeable-looking, Orrey thought. He 
heard the others call him Bleecker, and he 
rightly guessed that the name came from the 
fact that the man made his headquarters in 
some resort in the street of that name when 
he was in the great city. 

Orrey could not always catch the words the 
men used, nor understand all those he did hear, 
for their talk was largely in a slang strange 
to his ears. Once, after a little start of sur- 
prise by Bleecker, which did not make Orrey 
suspect anything, for he saw no glance directed 
toward himself, the men whispered so that he 
could not hear at all. Then Bleecker said loudly 
to the third man : 

“ Red, go over to some farmhouse and see if 
you can learn anything about the south-bound 
freights. It^s near time for our get-away.” 

134 


KIDNAPPED 


All right,’’ said the man addressed as Red ; 
and he rose, stretched his arms, and wandered 
off into the woods. 

The others talked loudly now, using language 
Orrey could easily understand, and he became 
engrossed in their stories about their adven- 
tures of the night before, in which they made 
many interesting surmises about the “ two 
brave lads ” who had attacked Mull so fear- 
lessly. “ This,” thought Orrey, “ will be bully 
stuff to remember and tell Len,” and he listened 
with all his attention. 

“ Now, young fellow, we^ll go ashore! ” 

These words spoken close at his side startled 
Orrey. He turned to find Red, waist-deep in 
water, holding on to the canoe. Orrey reached 
for his paddle, but Red grinned and showed 
that he held it in one hand. 

“No more tackling like you did last night,” 
Red said, pushing the canoe through the reeds 
toward the shore. At his first words the other 
men had come down to the bank, and when the 
bow of the canoe lifted on the beach, Bleecker 
took hold and dragged it well up on land. 

10 135 


BEAVEE CEEEK FAEM 


Orrey, too bewildered to speak, and now thor- 
oughly alarmed, stepped silently out of the 
boat. As he did so, Mull aimed a blow at him, 
but the arm was caught roughly by Bleecker, 
who turned on the fellow fiercely, exclaiming : 

You cur! ni close your other eye if you 
hurt this kid. Strike a little swell like this just 
because he banged your coco ! 

It wasn’t your coco that was banged, or you 
wouldn’t be so polite,” growled Mull. 

The men hurried Orrey up the bank and far 
into the woods before they stopped and held a 
whispered consultation. Then Bleecker turned 
to him and asked : 

Are you the old gent’s son — the one who did 
the business with the cattle buyers? ” 

I’m his grandson ; and you’d better let me go 
or he’ll put you in jail.” 

I should think likely he would — if he 
could,” said Bleecker pleasantly. But I’m in- 
terested in you, for I like a plucky lad. Now 
whose son might you be? Nobody’s in these 
parts — not with those clothes on, eh ? ” 

“ I’m Orville Hulburt, Junior,” answered the 
boy loudly. He spoke in that tone because he 
136 


KIDNAPPED 


felt as if he might cry, hut was determined not 
to, and hoped to keep his voice steady by rais- 
ing it; but it was not the raised voice which 
made Bleecker regard him with sudden new 
interest. 

“ Orville 'Hulhurt,” he repeated. “ Now, thafs 
not a common name. Do you mean that you’re 
the son of the Orville Hulhurt who’s doing those 
stunts in Wall Street the papers tell about? ” 

I don’t know what Wall Street stunts are,” 
Orrey replied. “ But my father is very rich ; 
and if you don’t let me go home this very minute 
he’ll have you arrested and sent to prison.” 

In saying what he did about his father, Orrey 
had broken a family commandment. He knew 
his father was rich : that was certain to he known 
by him, a hoy surrounded by gossiping and 
boastful servants, but his mother had often cau- 
tioned him not to speak of the fact. “ It was 
bad form,” she told him, and with all other had 
forms he was to avoid it. But he also knew that 
money was powerful. Living in the atmosphere 
which surrounds men as rich as was his father, 
the knowledge that money was power could not 
escape him ; and now, in the moment of his first 
137 


BEAVER CREEK FARM 

danger, he could not be blamed for threatening 
the use of that power in his own defense. Nor 
could he know that in telling of his father’s 
wealth he had revealed just the fact which de- 
termined his captors to kidnap him. That had 
been only a half -formed purpose when they dis- 
covered that they were being watched by the in- 
cautious hoy. The first thought which prompted 
Bleecker to send Red around behind Orrey, and 
capture him in the canoe, was to keep their 
watcher with them until they had made their 
escape. Then, when they had him in their hands, 
came the plan which they discussed at first, of 
making a quick demand on the Squire for the 
cattle buyers’ payment, for Orrey’s ransom. 
But the discovery that their captive was the son 
of Orville Hulburt, the man of whose success in 
finance even they had heard, prompted the morp 
desperate scheme of kidnapping him over the 
not distant Canadian border, and there holding 
him for a bigger ransom. 

Darkness fell fast; scurrying black clouds 
flashed lightning and rolled heavy thunder from 
hill to hill. For a little time the trees had been 
silent and motionless ; now their branches lashed 
138 


KIDNAPPED 


from side to side, and the wind, which tore and 
stripped them, hissed menacingly. 

After walking some distance, and striving, in 
the gathering gloom, to note the lay of the land 
from several points at the edge of the woods, 
the men consulted again. Then Bleecker tied 
one of Orrey’s wrists to one of his own, saying : 

« We’re not going to hurt you, sonny, but we 
want you to come along with us quietly. If you 
make a hollef we’ll gag you, and that will hurt.” 

Now they could not agree in which direction 
to go, not even where lay the edge of the woods. 
A deluge of rain began to fall, and among the 
trees it became pitchy dark. The men were con- 
fused ; in sudden panic. 

Could you find your way to the railroad? ” 
Bleecker shouted, holding his mouth close to 
Orrey’s ear, for the thunder cracked and boomed 
incessantly. 

No, I couldn’t; and I wouldn’t if I could,” 
shouted Orrey. You better let me go, I tell 
you. Len has gone for help, and it will he here 
pretty soon.” 

“ Who’s Len ? ” the man shouted back ; and 
now his voice showed alarm. 

139 


BEAVEE CEEEK FAEM 


“ Never you mind,” said Orrey. You let 
me go ! ” 

He struggled now, but one of the men, he 
could not see which, held his arms roughly, and 
all began stumbling through the forest, the men 
trying to find their way out into the open. 

Stumbling, in truth, for only when searing 
shafts of lightning made even the dense woods 
brilliant, could they see from tree to tree, and 
stumbles and falls were frequent. On they strug- 
gled, on and on, bewildered, bruised, cursing the 
storm, stumbling on and on. They must have 
gone thus for an hour when a spreading sheet 
of light from the clouds showed them — the canoe 
and the drenched remains of their fire ! In their 
blind struggles they had gone, as lost wanderers 
often go, around in a circle, back to their start- 
ing point. 

“We might have passed even this, and gone 
on to the farmhouse,” shouted one of the men 
with an oath. “ There we’d get ropes around 
our necks for comforters, I’m telling you. 
What’ll we do now ? ” 

“ Make another try,” commanded Bleecker 
doggedly. “ Come on.” 

140 


KIDNAPPED 


Orrey was now almost exhausted; he could 
scarcely keep up with his captors, although al- 
ways one and sometimes two of them dragged 
him along. They had again traveled half an hour, 
in what direction, how far, none knew, when they 
came upon a tangle they could not penetrate. 
Struggle and push as they might, they were re- 
pelled by interlacing branches which whipped 
their faces and threatened their eyes. 

The windfall, thought Orrey drowsily. 
Then came another thought which gave him 
heart : “ The cave ! ” 

Anything to end this bruising struggle, this 
facing of the frightful lightning, which just 
then ripped a great tree from top to roots, so 
close as to half stun them. Orrey tugged at the 
sleeve of the man closest to him and shouted, 
when the man bent his head to listen : 

I know where we can rest — be safe.’’ 

“ Show us ! ” shouted the man, with savage 
eagerness. Guided by the next flash, Orrey took 
the men to the cave. One quickly examined it, 
and soon called to the others to follow him. 

But Orrey had done his utmost; at the very 
mouth of the cave he could stand no more, and 
141 


BEAVEE CEEEK FAEM 


sank down in a half faint. Bleecker lifted him 
in his arms, not ungently, saying : 

“You’ve a good heart. I’m sorry for you, 
youngster.” 

As Orrey’s head fell hack on Bleecker’s shoul- 
der the little rain-soaked cap which until then 
had held on like a grape skin, indeed, was 
brushed off and fell to the ground. 

There was no water in the cave, for the ground 
above the entrance lay so as to divert the flood 
coming down the face of the hill; and the men 
threw themselves on the dry floor with weary 
sighs and soon slumbered almost like the dead. 
Orrey was asleep even before Bleecker made 
doubly secure the knots in the cord at his wrist 
and the hoy’s, and the leader lay down by his 
side, muttering : 

“ Poor little fellow ! It will he a tough job 
to spoil your beauty to make your dad come 
down with the ransom. But that’s the sure way 
to bring such as your dad and mother to terms.” 


142 


CHAPTER XV 


THE NIGHT FIGHT 

W HEN Scudder told Len to go back and 
make his dismal report about the 
empty canoe to the people at the 
Farm, and Len, frightened, sobbing, and weary 
had started off on a run, Scudder called to him : 
‘‘ Did you paddle, or Orville? ” 

Orville,^’ shouted Len, and ran on. 

Scudder asked this because hq wanted some- 
thing to give Towser the scent ; something which 
should tell the hound what he was to do. The 
dog barely snitfed at the handle of the paddle 
before he showed that he knew what was ex- 
pected of him, and darted into the woods. Scud- 
der followed, but we need not, for their course 
was the same rough and stumbling one we have 
just traversed with Orrey and his captors. The 
rain made the scent hard to hold. It is said that 
143 


BEAVEE CEEEK FAEM 


some dogs cannot follow when even a fresh scent 
has been modified by a pelting rain ; hut Towser 
made headway. Sometimes he ranged far from 
the trail, hut something led him right again; a 
brush or tree against which Orrey had lurched, 
a bit of his torn clothing. Who knows? At 
times the dog seemed to Scudder, as he was re- 
vealed by the lightning, to he taking the scent 
from the very air. 

Scudder fared less badly than those he fol- 
lowed; his lifelong training made him skillful 
in such travel; his instinct seemed to act as 
feelers for him in the inky darkness and save 
him many collisions; yet even with this advan- 
tage he was bruised and ragged when, urging 
on the dog, he almost fell over him as Towser 
stopped with a short yelp. Scudder used his 
hands to see with while waiting for the lightning 
to show what had occurred, and found Towser 
rigid, with one paw planted firmly on a soft 
drenched object. At the next flash he exclaimed : 

Orrey’s cap ! Good boy ! Good Towser ! 
Good old fellow ! Let’s talk it over. The cave? 
Would they go in there if Orrey showed it to 
them? Yes. They’d go anywhere to get away 
144 


THE NIGHT FIGHT 


from this. Watch it, Towser. Scudder’s going 
a- visiting.’^ 

When Len went to Scndder with the story of 
what the hoys had seen at the swamp end of the 
Pond, he did not speak of the midnight adven- 
ture with the man at the window. He had been 
told not to speak of it, and he was the kind of 
hoy to obey such instruction. So, it will be seen, 
Scndder started off to the Pond having in mind 
that he was only to warn some tramps away from 
the Farm, and see that they left no tire near the 
edge of the woods. It was because he thought 
of them only as tramps that he took no weapon 
with him. 

But now, as he slipped down the ladder to 
enter the cave, he knew he might have to fight 
desperate men; men bold and bad enough to 
kidnap a boy, and that there were three of them. 
But he did not hesitate. He did take out his 
jackknife — glad that it was a big one — open it 
and drop it into the side pocket of his jumper, 
where it could be reached quickly. Then he took 
otf his heavy boots, crawled down into the cave, 
and fell softly at full length. ^ 

He was, I think I have said, a tall, lank man, 

145 


BEAVEE CREEK FARM 


not gainly in his walk nor in any of his move- 
ments ordinarily, hut now, conld you have seen 
him, you would have said he was as graceful as 
a tiger, and have been reminded of that animal, 
too, perhaps. Only his hands and stockinged 
feet touched the floor, and at every inch of prog- 
ress he softly felt forward. Soon he heard the 
heavy breathing of the exhausted sleepers, which 
told him he was right in his hunt; then he 
touched one, softly as a cat, then another, until 
he had made out the forms of the three men and 
the hoy. He was glad to find that Orrey was 
nearest to the mouth of the cave ; a lucky chance, 
probably, for the men in throwing themselves 
down could not have known which was the front, 
which the hack. His touch told him that Orrey’ s 
wrist was tied by a cord to something. 

He gently ran his hand along the cord until 
he found the other end fastened to a man’s wrist. 
The rain-soaked knot at Orrey’s wrist would not 
loosen, nor would it slip over his hand. Scud- 
der held the cord so as to prevent any pressure 
or jerk acting as a signal to the sleeping man, 
then took his knife and sawed on the cord be- 
tween the hoy’s wrist and where his own hand 
146 


THE NIGHT FIGHT 


held it. It was a tough cord, and wet; and the 
strands parted slowly under the gentle pressure 
which was all that he dared to apply, for fear 
of a slip of the blade which would make a noise. 
But strand by strand he felt it part, and with 
each parting his heart heat faster. At last the 
cord was cut, and again he dropped the open 
knife into his pocket. 

Next he stretched himself at length by Orrey’s 
side, one hand hovering as light as a feather over 
the boy’s lips to stifle any cry he might make if 
alarmed suddenly. Placing his mouth close to 
the sleeper’s ear he whispered softly: 

Orville ! Orville ! It’s Scudder, Orville. 
Don’t be frightened, it’s Scudder.” 

This he patiently repeated over and over, 
gently as a mother whispering her love to a 
sleeping babe. Orville told, later, that for a time 
after he heard the voice he thought he was 
dreaming, and wished it might be real, but could 
not understand how it could be ; then he thought 
that all he had gone through had been a dream, 
and whispered: 

“ Are we at home, Scudder 1 ” 

“ No, Orville, but we will be soon. Are you 

147 


BEAVEE CEEEK FAEM 


wide awake? Yes, this is Scudder, and he wants 
you to understand something. Crawl in this 
direction; it’s toward the opening of the cave. 
Make no noise. Crawl quietly, Orville, and 
Towser will take you home if I don’t come.” 

“ But you must come, too,” the hoy whispered. 

I’ll come if I can. But you get out of here. 
If you hear these men wake up and say some- 
thing to me, donH you turn hack ! As you love 
your mamma,' don’t you turn hack, hut cut for it. 
I can take care of them long enough for you to 
get outside.” 

Again Scudder took the knife from his pock- 
et, grasped it firmly, half crouched over the 
sleeping men between them and the way of es- 
cape, and waited patiently. 

Orville felt his way out of the cave ; and when 
the little noise he made told Scudder that the hoy 
was at the opening, if not yet above ground, he, 
too, crept away. He had just reached the foot 
of the ladder, when a terrific harking by Towser 
woke the men behind him, and, throwing caution 
away, Scudder ran up the ladder, pulled it up 
after him, and yelled : 

“ Eun for it, Orrey ! Eun ! ” 

148 


THE NIGHT FIGHT 


He heard the shouts of the men as they dis- 
covered their captive^s escape, their confused 
movements as they sought the way out, and 
their clumsy scramble from the cave. They 
would have to “ shin out,’’ Scudder said to 
Orrey, and that would delay some. He swung 
the hoy up on his shoulders and started around 
the windfall. The rain had stopped, and already 
some stars were glinting through the rifted 
clopds, making light enough for Scudder to find 
a path. But the same light which helped him 
helped his pursuers, who, unhampered as Scud- 
der was, gained on him. 

‘‘ Stop ! ” called one of the men. “We can 
see you. Stop, or we’ll fire.” 

Scudder swung Orrey down to the ground, 
saying: 

“ Now, boy, do your best. I’ll hold ’em back ; 
and if they do fire it’ll call some of the other 
searchers. Eun! With him, Towser! With 
him, you rascal ! ” 

But Towser was growling, and for the first 
time in his life refused to obey Scudder’s com- 
mand. 

Scudder picked up a limb of a tree which the 
149 


BEAVEE CREEK FARM 


wind had blown down, and, as he defied his pur- 
suers, stripped some of the branches from the 
limb to make it a better weapon. 

Come on, yon villains ! ” he cried. “ I’m 
Scudder, and I’m jnst aching to have a crack at 
yon. Rnn for it, Orville. Come on, yon thieves, 
if yon’re not afraid ! ” 

The men stopped and called ont : 

^^We want no tronble with yon, Renh; bnt 
yon let ns have that boy, or we’ll take him.” 

Take nothing ! ” shonted Scndder. “ Rnn, 
Orville, I tell yon ! Rnn ! ” 

He had glanced over his shonlder and saw that 
the hoy wonld not leave. It was not in Orrey’s 
natnre to desert a friend in distress. 

There was a fiash and the sonnd of a pistol 
shot. It seemed to madden Scndder, for now he 
called ont in a frenzy of rage : 

“ Shoot, dern yon, shoot ! Yon can’t hit noth- 
ing. Come on and fight! I’m Scndder — one 
against three, and jnst aching for it — and yon’re 
afraid ! Yon sknnks I ” 

The men made a dash. The tree limb came 
down on the head of the first and laid him low. 
Now Towser got into the fray; darting aronnd 
150 


THE NIGHT FIGHT 


Scudder he attacked one of the men so viciously 
that the man screamed in pain. Seeing the man 
checked, Scudder brought his clumsy weapon 
again into action with a sweep and a flourish 
and laid out the second man. But there was a 
third to be attended to. 

As Towser darted around one side of Scudder, 
Orrey ran around the other. He saw that the 
third man must he held in check, or he would 
get in too close for Scudder to deal with him 
with that ungainly weapon of his. The man 
saw his chance, and, as Towser attacked the sec- 
ond, the third man tried to get into a clinch with 
Scudder. I have said that Orrey had been 
taught to box; and he could hit a sharp blow, 
too. He now darted in between Scudder and the 
advancing man and went at him like a game- 
cock. He wanted to get the man’s hands down, 
seeing that he held them above his head to catch 
Scudder’s mighty club, and he rained blows on 
the man’s face, jumping up for each blow as if 
he had never known fatigue ; and at last the man 
lowered his hands and struck Orrey sharply in 
the face, knocking him down. Then the swish 
of Scudder’s weapon was heard, the limb de- 
11 151 


BEAVEE CEEEK FAEM 


scended on the unprotected head of number 
three, and he fell senseless. 

Without waiting to learn the exact result of 
his blows, Scudder picked up Orrey, once more 
raised him to his shoulder, and ran. 

They saw a swinging lantern, and soon made 
out the voice of Jack, shouting; and his voice 
was accompanied by the treble yells of Len and 
Sally. Orrey slipped down to the ground and 
was hugged and kissed by Jack, Len, and Sally 
all at once. 

“ We laid ’em all out ! Orville and me and 
Towser! We fit ’em all, and laid ’em all out! ” 
exclaimed Scudder, dancing about the party in 
wild leaps of joy. 

“But where are the villains?” asked Jack. 
“ We must not let them get away.” 

“No hurry,” chuckled Scudder. “ None on 
’em will be leaving where they are for a quarter 
of an hour, or so.” 

The pistol shot had, as Scudder thought it 
would, attracted other searchers ; and they, with 
Jack, soon had the kidnappers safely bound. 
We, readers, have seen the last of them. They 
were sent to prison for long terms, and Scudder 
152 


THE NIGHT FIGHT 


was the star witness at the notable trial. Let ns 
hasten to join more pleasant company. 

Soon Orrey was in the arms of his grand- 
mother, and, in quick succession, the arms of a 
score of the others ; and the big bell in the cu- 
pola over the barn rang out the joyful signal: 

Come in! AlVs wellJ^ 


153 


CHAPTEE XVI 


A FBEE CIRCUS 

O N the day after his great adventure Or- 
ville was a sore and lame hnt happy 
hoy ; and the chief cause of his happi- 
ness was that he had a black eye. And it was 
a “ good ” one, as Len remarked in admiring 
envy. It had come from the blow which knocked 
him down when he was checking the third man 
to be felled by Scndder, and although his grand- 
mothers ministrations of hot water and herbs 
had reduced the swelling so that Orrey could see 
out of the eye as usual, the adored black was 
there as testimony that he had been in the battle. 
He tried not to show too much pride in this pre- 
cious possession; but during the day he usually 
disposed himself so that Len could see the hon- 
orable scar without much trouble. 

In the morning the Squire told Jack to take 


A FEEE CIECUS 


Orrey with him on any pretext, to keep him away 
from the Farm. 

People will he coming here all day to talk 
over the kidnapping; and hearing it discussed 
so much will give the lad a real notion of the 
danger he was in. As it is, he does not under- 
stand; looks upon it as a bit of adventure. I 
don’t want his spirit broken by thinking about 
it in any other way, by coming to brood over it, 
as he will if he hears all the talk which will be 
going on here to-day.” 

Orrey knew that his father and mother were 
coming, and he was eager for any plan which 
would help pass the long day before he could see 
them, for, in truth, he was more than a little 
homesick. He did not know that his father 
had been in communication with the Farm by 
long-distance telephone from the time the Squire 
had notified Orville’s parents of the affair, early 
in the evening. The assurance that their hoy 
was safe did not by any means satisfy his par- 
ents ; they wanted to hug the youngster as proof 
that he was all right, and had taken the midnight 
train soon after receiving word that he was at 
home and tucked in bed. 

155 


BEAVER CREEK FARM 


Jack had an interesting trip for the hoys : an 
automobile he had sent for would arrive that 
day by the Lake ferry; and he told Orrey and 
Len that he would drive them down there, show 
them the famous dug-out, and bring them home 
in the automobile. 

“ Now as to this dug-out,” Jack said, as they 
drove across the lovely, rolling country to the 
lake, “ the chaps who write history books do not 
tell the story as we old settlers believe it. As 
we understand it — and Pd like to know who 
should if we who licked Burgoyne don’t under- 
stand it — that dug-out was designed for a very 
foxy purpose.” 

What do we understand about it? ” asked 
Orrey, who liked to think of himself as among 
those who defeated Burgoyne. 

“ The story is this,” Jack answered. When 
Burgoyne sailed up the lake with his war ships, 
part of his army being on the east of the lake, 
part on the west, he wanted to send an expedi- 
tion with cannon up to the city of Vergennes, to 
destroy an arsenal filled with supplies for the 
American army. The only way he could get his 
cannon up Otter Creek was by boat, unless he 
156 


A FREE CIRCUS 


used more of his troops to drag the cannon than 
he wanted to detach from the main expedition. 
But some good patriot had guessed that the 
enemy would want to destroy that arsenal, so he 
took the precaution to sink a ship in the mouth of 
the channel, and Burgoyne found it blocked 
against him. As the bottom of the lake was 
found to be soft and easily cut, Burgoyne started 
to dig a channel around the sunken ship, for the 
passage of some of his boats big enough to carry 
cannon; and this very day you kiddies can see 
for yourselves if the story is true ; for the water 
is low, and the dug-out, as we boys always 
called it, can be plainly traced.’^ 

Whether Jack’s explanation is good history 
or not I will not attempt to decide; but this I 
know, and so Orrey and Len found: the trace 
of the attempt to cut a channel around the mouth 
of Otter Creek can be seen by anyone who will 
go there when the water is low. 

How it inspired the boys’ imagination ! How 
they wished they had lived in those days when 
fellows only a little older than they had guns, 
and knew how to use them! The boys decided 
that the reason that Burgoyne gave up the at- 
157 


BEAVEE CREEK FARM 


tempt was not because be bad to burry on to 
attack tbe patriots at old Ticonderoga, but that 
some of tbe youngsters tbe Squire bad told about 
harried tbe enemy at work on tbe channel; 
sharp-shot them so delightfully that they could 
not be kept at the work. Tbe boys determined 
to reproduce that part of tbe campaign if the 
Twins could be induced to play canal diggers. 

Tbe automobile was found on tbe landing in 
charge of a mechanic from tbe shop ; and be and 
Jack soon bad it ready for tbe home journey, 
Tbe mechanic was eager to take tbe return train 
back to New York, and after showing Jack — 
who bad run automobiles, but not that kind — 
the peculiarities of tbe machine, asked him if be 
thought he could run it. Jack thought be could, 
and at tbe start it seemed that his confidence was 
warranted. They flew up tbe road toward the 
bills, and the boys shouted with delight at tbe 
fun of such traveling. But at tbe first bit of 
steep road, when Jack changed gear, trouble fell 
upon them. And this was at a most unlucky 
place. A farmer, driving a loaded bay wagon, 
pulled off to tbe side of the road and asked Jack 
to pass. Just then the machine gave a succes- 
158 


A FREE CIRCUS 


sion of sighs and grunts and came to a stop, 
right by the side of the wagon. The horses be- 
gan to tangle themselves up in the harness, and 
the farmer yelled out : 

Get a move on, and have the trouble over ! 

This was good advice, hut, though Jack pulled 
and twisted and wiggled ever so many throttles 
and levers and cocks, he could not start the car. 
That is, the wheels did not start. Everything 
else did. The machine began to wheeze and 
cough and sneeze, tremble and rock and rattle, 
and the hay-wagon horses stood on their heels 
and heads in turn. Some pigs, being shifted 
from field to field across the road, went into a 
panic; and their herder, trying to round them 
up, left a gate open out of which there emerged 
a miscellaneous army of almost every kind of 
animal known to the farm. The road was alive 
with neighing, mooing, squealing, cackling ani- 
mals who were in vocal hysterics, each after its 
kind, and scampering in fright and excitement. 
Only a hunch of turkeys behaved like sensible 
beings. They stalked quite up to the whirring, 
snuffling machine and regarded it with unafraid 
curiosity. 


159 


BEAVEE CEEEK FAEM 


Orrey and Len were weak with laughter at all 
this free circus, hut now and then offered Jack 
advice which he might have resented had he not 
been the hest-natured man in the world. Per- 
haps he did not hear all that was said, as he was 
generally on his back under the machine, doing 
things with tools, which did not mend matters, 
though it did produce new symptoms of insanity 
from the machine ; symptoms which were in turn 
communicated to the frenzied assortment of live 
stock, and caused the hay-wagon horses to make 
earnest efforts to mount to the top of their load 
with the angry and noisy driver. 

Just as things were at their maddest and nois- 
iest state — ^the machine having added a fit of 
fire-spitting to its other oddities — the Squire 
drove up. 

“ Hello, Jack,” he called out cheerily, can 
I help you? ” 

Jack crawled out from under the machine, 
dusty, oily, grimy, sweaty, hut still good-na- 
tured. “ Yes, uncle,” he said. “ If you happen 
to have a stick of dynamite in your pocket you 
can blow this machine into the next county. 
That would help some.” 

160 



Orrey and Len were weak with laughter at all this free circus 





A FEEE CIECUS 


The Squire gave his horses to a bystander 
to hold ; led the hay-wagon team out of the dan- 
ger zone ; told the grinning farm hands to clear 
the road of vagrant live stock ; did some simple 
thing to the machine, and said, “Now I guess 
she’ll go along.” 

“ Thank you,” said Jack when he found every- 
thing all right. “ Get in and have a ride with 
us.” 

“ No,” the Squire replied, climbing into his 
buggy ; “ I’ve lived a God-fearing and unprofane 
life for sixty-five years, and I don’t want to break 
my record at this late day by riding in one of 
those contraptions. Geddap, girls ! ” 


161 


CHAPTER XVII 


THE BAKEBACK RIDE 

O N that same day — the one after the kid- 
napping — a strange thing happened 
in Scudder’s life. I think I have men- 
tioned that Orville’s trunk contained presents 
for Scudder from Orville’s mother. She was a 
daughter of the gentleman who owned the fa- 
mous show place in that part of the State, where 
the gentleman played at farming in the summer 
and Orville’s mother passed most of her child- 
hood’s vacation. Scudder, then employed on the 
show place, had taught her to ride and drive, 
and been her faithful, adoring attendant for 
many years, until Orville’s father wooed and 
won the belle and heiress. 

Then Scudder went to Beaver Creek Farm as 
head farmer, where he heard much of “ Nelly,” 
as she still was to him, and saw her during her 
162 


THE BAREBACK RIDE 


visits to the Farm. All that he heard and knew 
of her was the romance of Scndder’s life; her 
beauty, her social greatness, her children, were 
all the world to Scudder outside of his work. 
That work was a great deal to him. 

The Squire declared that Scudder took hut 
one holiday in the year, and could not he induced 
to take more. On the Fourth of July it was 
holiday with him from daylight to midnight. 
He led in all the games which followed the read- 
ing of the Declaration of Independence hy the 
Squire to the assembled countryside; he fired 
salutes from the brass cannon to the Day, to 
Washington and all the other saints in his po- 
litical calendar, to the State, the County, the 
Farm, and a special one to General Schuyler; 
(he never gave the glory of defeating Burgoyne 
to Gates, hut to Schuyler, as taught hy the 
Squire) ; he set oft the fireworks in the evening; 
he helped Mrs. Hulburt serve the patriotic punch 
which regaled the farmers on that glorious day; 
and had such a good time that it lasted him for 
the whole year. 

But on the morning after the rescue of Orville 
he decided to take a holiday — not to celebrate 
163 


BEAVER CREEK FARM 


his own part in that rescne, hut because he had 
been called to the telephone when he brought 
Orville in, and thanked by ‘‘ Nelly, who asked 
him to meet her and her husband and drive them 
to the Farm. 

The present which Orville had brought to 
Scudder was an entire suit of Sunday clothes, 
including gloves, shoes, and hat; and Orrey’s 
mother had written to Scudder that he was to 
wear them to church. Of course he had no no- 
tion of doing such a wasteful thing; he always 
hurried home from church to look over things at 
the Farm, and such clothes were not for such 
doings. He hung the garments up in his room 
as if they had been a picture ; hut on the event- 
ful day he decided to wear Nelly’s gift, by way 
of celebrating her coming. As to the clothes, 
they were tight enough, and horribly fashion- 
' able, but as to the gloves and boots their tight- 
ness was nothing less than torture. He wanted 
to drive down to the station with a pair of spir- 
ited horses, but he found that his hands in those 
gloves were as useful for driving as if they 
were wooden; so he hitched up a pair of work 
horses who would drive themselves. He was a 
164 


THE BAREBACK RIDE 


sight to draw expressions of delight and amaze- 
ment from farmer’s wives and children as he 
passed along the road to the station. 

When Orville’s mother saw him she gave him 
such a hug as took away what little breath he 
had managed to get into his lungs, compressed as 
they were by the close embrace of the new coat ; 
and Orville’s father gave him a hug, too, and 
they made so much of his rescue of their boy 
that he blushed and declared that it was nothing 
at all. 

The first thing Orville’s father asked was to 
have Scudder take him over the route of the hunt 
as nearly as he could. They found the limb 
Scudder had wielded so well ; and now Scudder 
has that limb reduced in size to a polished oak 
cane, with a gold head on which is engraved 
Scudder’s name and the date of the rescue. That 
was not the only present Scudder received, for, 
after Orrey returned in the automobile with Jack 
— you see they really did get the machine to the 
Farm — and the boy had told his version of the 
adventure, his father wrote out a check which 
made Scudder’s eyes blink when he got it. 

After Orrey’s mother had kissed his black eye 

165 


BEAVER CREEK FARM 


a dozen times, laughed and cried over him, 
scolded and praised him — in the way mothers 
have of doing, which would make hoys uncertain 
whether they stood well or ill with them, if they 
didn’t know well enough that they always stand 
well — after she released him his father said to 
Orrey : 

That’s a lovely eye you have, my son. Did 
you land on the fellow before you got that? ” 
This was the most interesting part of the story 
to Orrey, and he replied excitedly : 

Indeed, dad, I did. I remembered all that 
Kelly tells me when he gives me boxing lessons, 
and I got in a lot of bully wallops before he 
landed on me. I could have saved myself then, 
but, you see I wanted him to strike at me, to 
give Scudder a chance with that club of his. 
So I laid myself open to encourage the fel- 
low to bring his hands down and take a 
crack at me.” 

Did you, though? ” exclaimed the father, 
proudly. ‘VYou really did! Good! I wonder 
if Scudder couldn’t find a good riding pony for 
you somewhere about the county. One for you, 
and one for Len, too, if we can dig up the money. 

166 


THE BAREBACK RIDE 


Laid yoar guard open to draw his fire, to help 
Scudder? Well, well! 

My own opinion is that Mr. Hulbnrf s pride 
in Orrey was because he had discovered that 
boys who are brave are honest. Indeed, I think 
that honesty is one of the signs of courage ; that 
truthfulness can best he developed by encour- 
aging in hoys those acts, games, pastimes, hab- 
its which cultivate courage. 

There is the first little bit of a sermon IVe 
preached; and I’ll not apologize for it, because 
it will he the last, and an author is allowed one 
sermon under the rules. 

Those were doubly happy days for Orrey 
while his parents remained on the Farm: such 
fun in showing his father a score of things to do 
and places to see, at all of which his father ex- 
pressed such surprise the son never suspected 
that the elder knew all those places and things a 
score of years ago. So proud he was to have 
his mother read to him and his companions “ in 
different voices,” so as to make it as good as a 
theater. 

Every hoy believes that his mother is the best 
mother in the world, for the very good reason 
12 167 


BEAVEE CREEK FARM 


that she is; hut Orrey believed his mother was 
different from others in certain daring he had 
heard old servants talk about, but he had never 
seen. That visit opened his eyes. The children 
were on a trip with Orrey’s mother and Scudder, 
to inspect some horses in a pasture. One of the 
horses came up to the party fearlessly, and tried 
to get its nose in Scudder’s pocket. 

Fine two-year-old,” says Orrey’s mamma. 

‘‘ Finest colt in the State,” asserted Scudder. 

The lady slipped her hands, which had been 
patting the animal’s neck, down to its back. 
Then she looked with a mischievous smile at 
Scudder, and raised her left foot. 

Scudder looked doubtful for a moment; his 
hand went down, the foot went into it, there was 
a lift and a spring, and Orrey’s mother was on 
the colt’s back. 

This was too great a liberty for even the pet 
of the paddock, and with a snort, a shake of his 
head, a flourish of his tail, he was off on a keen 
run. He went so swiftly towards a fence that it 
looked as if he would have to take it, or stop so 
suddenly as to throw his rider over it. But the 
lady held on; the colt returned on a run; the 
168 


THE BAREBACK RIDE 


children danced with delight and gave back a 
dozen “ Hoop-las ! ” for every one the rider 
sang out to them. 

The Squire and Orrey’s father entered the pas- 
ture just then. The bareback rider’s husband 
did not seem surprised at what he saw. 

That good lady,” he said, ‘‘ will, of course, 
break her neck, one day ; hut why should I spoil 
her fun in the meantime by asking her to be care- 
ful?” 

When the wild ride was over, and Orrey’s 
mother slipped to the ground with the remark, 
“ Like old times, eh, Scudder ? ” her son felt 
sudden doubts, as hoys will, sometimes, of the 
propriety of his mamma’s act. But these doubts 
vanished when he saw that the other children 
wholly approved. Len was enthusiastic ; Sally, 
of course was extravagant in her delight, and 
declared that she was going to learn to do the 
same thing. Even demure Cathy regarded the 
fine lady with added approval. 

The Squire urged that the kidnapping adven- 
ture should make no difference in the goings, 
comings and play of the children, for that would 
169 


BEAVER CREEK FARM 


be likely to make them timid. So the only pre- 
caution taken to quiet the mind of the anxious 
mother was that Towser should always accom- 
pany Orrey; and from that time the old hound 
walked gravely by the boy’s side, or ran and 
barked with the children as they played. And 
play was redoubled now, for school days were 
drawing near, and Len advised that no play time 
be lost. 

Miss Bolton received a letter addressed to the 
teacher of the district school, which proved to be 
a challenge to the boys of her school for a series 
of football games with the eleven of the graded 
school. Jack otfered to coach the team if Orrey 
and Len could get enough players together ; and 
many visits to the village were made by the boys 
for the purchase of supplies. It was during one 
of these visits that they came upon something 
which led to an adventure of too much impor- 
tance to be told in chapters relating to anything 
else. 


170 


CHAPTER XVIII 


CATHY DISCOVEKS A SECKET 

T here had been frost! Oh, how much 
delight that means to boys and girls 
in the country! Frost! That means 
that the prickly, spiny, hard-to-handle chestnut 
burs have opened, disclosing, if you have the 
patience to wait for them, that they have a vel- 
vety inside to show ; and as they open they drop 
their rich brown, gleaming fruit at your very 
feet, making you sorry for the trouble you took 
to whirl clubs up among the branches to knock 
down nuts before mother Nature was willing to 
let you have them. Frost! That means that 
the quince trees are to he picked, their dusky 
yellow fruit to be transmuted by the alchemy 
of grandmamma^ s copper kettles into slices of 
deep red deliciousness ; that the latest of the 
pears are to he gathered and preserved in pure 
171 


BEAVER CREEK FARM 

white syrup the making of which is such fun to 
watch (with never an idea, of course, that you 
may get the syrup kettle to clean) ; it means that 
the hardy apples are full ripe and ready for the 
cider mill, to be ground and pressed into sweet, 
tangy nectar, the best that boy or girl ever 
drank; that the evenings are cool enough for a 
log fire before which some of those big apples 
in the cellar bin may be roasted ; that pop corn 
is cured enough to be popped; that out in the 
kitchen these days the housewife is busy with the 
greatest mystery-luxury of all, that which ends 
with the filling of great brown stone crocks with 
mince meat for the whole winter long! 

It means that now, when the children go out 
for a day. Jack builds a fire around which the 
lunch is eaten; that all the trees which are to 
lose their leaves make a carnival of their last 
days, a very riot of color to acclaim the close of 
their season’s reign. Everything young on the 
farm knows that the first days of frost are the 
best days of all. Young horses and cows no 
longer are content lazily to nip the short grass, or 
loaf in the shade of trees; they rush about the 
pastures at the least excuse, or no excuse at all, 
172 


A SECRET 


flinging their funny, stiff, crooked little legs in 
frolic. The melancholy days? The saddest of 
the year? Not for youth! 

On one nutting excursion Jack and Miss Bol- 
ton went with the hoys and the Twins, because 
the children could not have a fire unless a grown- 
up was along to see that the dry leaves did not 
spread the fire to the forest. A fire the children 
were determined to have. They had played 
every kind of Indian game except a war dance ; 
and while not being certain of the ceremony of 
Indians upon such occasions, they felt that no 
properly frenzied war dance could be brought 
off unless it were danced around a fire. 

^‘Besides,’’ suggested Len, an authority on 
such questions, we may capture an Algonquin 
or a Huron and want to put him to the torture 
at the stake. That will need fire.” 

The mere suggestion of this filled Sally with 
enthusiasm. She even hinted that they might 
shoot a squirrel, and while cooking it for lunch 
they could play they were roasting a hated foe. 
As Sally said this she chanced to glance at a cat 
which accompanied Cathy. This was an extra- 
ordinary cat. It liked to follow Cathy as well 
173 


BEAVER CREEK FARM 


as Towser liked to follow Orrey ; it would walk 
with her in her play, sometimes hiding in the 
brush and making sudden darts into the ranks 
of the children. When it was tired it would 
perch on Cathy’s shoulder, where Cathy talked 
to it more even than she did to the children, be- 
cause, as she explained, it was more poetical, 
and understood her moods better. But the 
glance which Sally, by the merest chance, gave 
to the cat when she spoke of roasting an animal, 
pretending it was a red-skinned enemy, made 
Cathy grab the cat, which was not out of her 
arms during the rest of the day. 

Jack said that he and Miss Bolton would build 
the fire near the edge of the wood where the nut 
trees grew, and the children were to go in and 
see how many nuts they could gather before he 
should call them. 

‘‘And you needn’t hurry,” he said as they 
made otf. “ You needn’t come until I call.” 

“ But you call when lunch is ready,” Orrey 
demanded. 

J ack built a bright fire of hard-wood branches ; 
and then, spreading a rug at the foot of a tree, 
asked Miss Bolton to sit there, because he wanted 
174 


A SECRET 


to say something to her, and he could say it best 
lying at her feet where he could watch the fire- 
light dance in her eyes. 

I do not pretend to know what he said; hut 
whatever it was — or, possibly, it may have been 
only the fire — made her cheeks take on the loveli- 
est color you ever saw. I think, anyway, they 
talked of something which interested them, for 
they forgot all about the lunch until Sally dashed 
out of the woods and demanded to know when 
they were to be called. 

<< We’re so starved that we would eat a cap- 
tive if we had one,” she declared. 

Miss Bolton hastily got out the simple provi- 
sions of jam sandwiches, mince pies, cakes, pre- 
serves, and doughnuts Mrs. Hulhurt had stocked 
the basket with, while Jack called in the hungry 
nut gatherers. As Cathy came in, hugging her 
cat, she looked at Miss Bolton with sudden inter- 
est, and then that peculiar child looked at Jack. 
Then she said to herself : 

‘‘ Hum ! I know,” and hugged her cat all the 
closer. 

It was after they were hack at the house, and 
the children were alone, that Cathy disclosed 
175 


BEAVER CREEK FARM 


what she thought she knew. Gathering the 
others close about her she said with an air 
of deep importance: 

I know a secret.^’ 

“ You always know secrets,” Len remarked. 

What is it now : a fairy in the old mill or a 
witch in the Deacon’s spring house 1 It’s always 
something like that.” 

The truth is that Cathy had the faculty of see- 
ing witches and fairies her playfellows never 
saw, but she could make them believe in her 
wonderful discoveries. This time it was a mat- 
ter more real, though none the less interesting. 

“ Jack and Miss Marion are in love together,” 
she whispered. 

“ Pooh ! ” exclaimed Orrey, uncomfortably. 
“ Love is nonsense — except for your blood kin.” 

It isn’t nonsense ! ” declared Cathy. “ And 
I saw it in her eyes, and I saw it in his eyes.” 

Len snorted at this. “ You saw it in your 
own eyes, silly ! ” he said. 

I am not a silly ; and love isn’t silly, for it’s 
in all kinds of books ; and you are a disagreeable 
little boy ; and I won’t play with you any more,” 
replied Cathy severely. 

176 


A SECEET 


“ Well, then,^’ asked Orrey, to whom the sub- 
ject did not seem as foolish as it did to Len. 

“ How do you mean, ‘ In their eyes ’ % 

“ Oh, I know,’’ said Cathy wisely. “ But if I 
knew that you were going to ask me what love 
is I wouldn’t have told you my secret at all. 
Even the hooks don’t tell what it is : they say it 
is, and that’s enough. Come, Sally, let’s go 
home.” 

“ Let me swing your cat hy the tail, and I’ll 
go,” replied Sally, glad to get away from a sub- 
ject which she feared would reduce Cathy to 
verse making. 

Although Orrey did not make much of Cathy’s 
secret when she told him — for, while an interest- 
ing, it was an unprofitable subject — he remem- 
bered it well the next day when he saw Marion’s 
stepfather on the porch of the village inn. Orrey 
and Len were on their way to the store to buy 
some football articles, and naturally much inter- 
ested in their errand, when, in passing the inn, 
Orrey chanced to look up and see Mr. Marvin. 

He stopped short, spread his legs, and stared at 
Mr. Marvin in a manner which, I am sorry to say, ^ 
177 


BEAVEE CHEEK FARM 


was not polite. In fact, it was an insolent stare ; 
for he had taken a deep dislike to the man, and 
thought it would not he courageous to pass him 
and not show his honest feelings. 

The man scowled down at the hoy, and after 
a moment said: Well, you brat, you don’t seem 
pleased to see me.” 

“ No, I am not,” Orrey replied slowly. “ And 
if you are here to make Miss Marion cry again, 

“ Well, what will you do? ” 

“ You never mind what I’ll do. But we’ll do it 
— ^won’t we, Len? ” 

Len, delighted to he brought into such an 
exciting encounter, said between his shut teeth: 
“ You bet you we will ! ” 

The man glared at the boys and growled: 
“ Run along, you, or I’ll cuff your ears.” 

“ No,” responded Orrey, you won’t cuff my 
ears ; but we’ll go on because ” 

He paused to let Len finish the sentence. “ Be- 
cause,” said Len, “ we have some respectable 
business to attend to.” 

Mr. Marvin, who seemed to be waiting for 
some one whose coming he was impatient for, 
178 


A SECRET 


turned on his heel. The hoys proceeded on the 
errand, which soon engrossed their whole 
thoughts. 

While they were debating over ear guards, 
shin protectors, and other essentials of football, 
I may as well explain why Mr. Marvin was again 
in Beaver Creek City. 

In the course of the week following their in- 
terview, Squire Hulburt wrote to Mr. Marvin a 
letter in which he said that, after examining his 
conscience, he could not see that it was his duty 
to urge Miss Bolton to return to her stepfather’s 
home. “ To do so,” he wrote, would he to ad- 
mit that the home I offer her is not a proper one. 
In her circumstances it seems to me to he quite 
right for the young lady to remain here. Her 
position here is in no respect that of a dependent, 
for she will more than earn the salary she will 
receive ; and the pleasure my wife derives from 
her society is more than compensation for the 
home we are glad to offer her. She is, I think, 
justified in choosing to earn her own living, in 
view of your failure to make her an allowance 
from the income of her estate. Did you make 
her such an allowance, my opinion might alter. 
179 


BEAVEE CEEEK FAEM 


At present I shall not speak to her of your ur- 
gency that she make your home hers.” 

The Squire did not speak of another consid- 
eration which weighed with both him and Mrs. 
Hulburt: the fact that they believed Jack to he 
in love with Marion. They did not know how 
the matter stood in her heart; hut they would 
have been pleased to have Jack marry before 
he went to New York to live, and they knew 
no one they would rather have him wed than 
Marion. 

But there was a danger in the situation which 
they did not understand: Marion’s exaggerated 
sense of her duty to her stepfather. Had he, on 
his other visit, commanded his stepdaughter to 
return, she would have obeyed; hut he wanted 
to appear in the position of offering her a home 
after she had been turned back by the Squire 
from her purpose of earning her own living. 
Jack Hulburt had discovered this trait in the 
young woman’s character; he knew that if Mr. 
Marvin made it a direct question of obedience 
or disobedience, her idea of her duty would win 
for the stepfather. 

Therefore it was that Jack had urged some- 
180 


A SECRET 


thing to Marion which made her eyes look so 
eloquent to the observant Cathy. Marion had 
not said just the word J ack wanted to hear, hut 
she had not left him hopeless. 

Now we can return to the store, where the boys 
watched with eager eyes the last of their pur- 
chases sent to the hank for the Squire to carry 
home in his buggy. The hoys were going to 
walk home as part of their training for the foot- 
ball games. 

As they passed the inn, they looked to see if 
their enemy was still on the porch. They did 
not see him there, hut, casting his eyes higher, 
Orrey stopped, clutched Len’s arm, and pointed 
to a window of the second story. There they 
saw Miss Bolton with Mr. Marvin, and he seemed 
to he talking to her seriously, if not angrily. 
The boys went on out of view from the window, 
to consider this development. 

“ Len,” said Orrey, “ I wish Cathy were here. 
I believe she has a sort of magic to tell her what 
it means when such things are going on.^’ 

“ Thafs so,” admitted Len, and then asked; 
What sort of things are going on? ” 

Orrey remembered that Len did not have all 
181 


BEAVER CREEK FARM 


his lights on the situation, and explained: I 
heard grandmamma and grandpa talking about 
this man, and they said that if he let Marion 
alone. Jack might marry her. That would he 
something to make Cathy sit up, I guess. 

“ Jiminy ! exclaimed Len. What can we 
do? We might set the inn on fire, and rescue 
her.’^ 

“ Yes,” assented Orrey, hut grandpa would 
have to pay for the inn. I wish Jack were here.” 

“ It wouldnT take him long to get here — in the 
machine.” 

“ Goody-good ! ” cried Orrey. “ Let’s ’phone.” 

They did so, and at the first hint of what was 
happening. Jack answered: “Keep track of 
them. I’ll beat the record coming in.” 


182 


CHAPTER XIX 


THE ELOPEMENT 

I T was easy for Orrey and Len to keep an eye 
on the inn by stepping into the bookstore 
across the street and pretending to look at 
books. Past as they knew the machine could 
travel, it seemed an age before any sign of it 
was seen or heard. 

Another breakdown, I’ll bet,” sighed Len. 

“ And us not there to help repair it,” lamented 
Orrey. 

Soon there was reason for real alarm: Mr. 
Marvin came out and spoke to the handy man 
about the inn, who went to the stable in the rear. 

“ If he drives away with her, what shall we 
do ! ” groaned Orrey. 

One of us watch which way he goes, the other 
watch for Jack. He can’t be going to the sta- 
tion, or he’d take the ’bus.” 

13 183 


BEAVEE CEEEK FAEM 


“ Unless he wanted to fool anyone who might 
he watching him/^ said Orrey, who had a sus- 
picion that Mr. Marvin knew that they were 
watching him. 

A buggy was brought around to the front of 
the inn, and Mr. Marvin and Marion came out 
to the porch, but just as they started to enter 
the vehicle Jack came honking down the street. 
He saw them, stopped the machine, and ran 
to them. 

Marion started toward him at first, but then 
shrank back. 

‘‘ You are not going away. Miss Bolton? ” he 
asked, ignoring the man. 

Yes,” she answered. 

Without saying good-by to uncle or aunt — 
to the children? ” 

“ I — I think it best that way.” 

“ My daughter preferred to start at once when 
she saw that it was right for her to go,” said the 
stepfather. “ She naturally wishes to avoid any 
painful scene — such as you seem determined to 
thrust upon her now.” 

Jack glared at the man savagely, but did not 
speak to him. 


184 


THE ELOPEMENT 


Of course, Miss Bolton, if you are going of 
your own free will 

Nonsense ! ” interrupted the man. A young 
woman’s father, who is also her legal guardian, 
can’t abduct her. But there’s no reason why I 
should. Miss Bolton prefers not to he subjected 
to impertinent questioning.” 

That will do ! ” said Jack in a voice which 
made the man start back. “ I wish to hear the 
young lady say for herself that she is going 
freely.” 

“ Mr. Hulburt,” exclaimed Marion, I am 
sorry to go — tell them that, all of them — but I 
go because I feel that it is my duty to do so.” 

“ Then good-by,” said Jack, his manner sud- 
denly changing. 

She took his hand and they parted calmly; 
too calmly to suit the watching boys. 

Marion and her stepfather now entered the 
’bus, which was waiting to take passengers to 
the train, and Jack returned to his automobile. 
He looked about as soon as the ’bus was out of 
sight, as if he expected to see the boys, and they 
ran to him. 

Oh, Jack ! ” said Orrey, almost in tears. “ I 
185 


BEAVER CREEK FARM 


hoped you wouldn’t let her go. Cathy says you 
love her ! ” 

“ Let her go, you little goose ! ” answered 
Jack. Haven’t I been teaching you a fake 
pass with the hall to fool the other side? I’ve 
just made a fake pass to fool that rascally step- 
father. Jump in here; I need you both.” 

Mr. Marvin had indeed discovered that Orrey 
and Len were observing his movements, and, 
being a man who disliked observation of any 
kind, he had intended to drive from the inn in 
a direction opposite from the station and reach 
it by a roundabout way; but when he saw Jack 
and Marion say good-by indifferently, he be- 
lieved there was no danger of further appeal 
to her, and took the ’bus to the station, assured 
that the young lady would accompany him qui- 
etly, and without interference by any of the 
Farm people. 

AVhen Jack had the boys in the automobile he 
said: 

^‘Now, kiddies, there is a saying that all’s 
fair in love, which means that it will be all right 
for you to help me now, even if I ask you to do 
something which would not seem quite fair if 
186 


THE ELOPEMENT 

we did not have an underhand rogue to deal 
with.” 

The hoys did not quite understand what Jack 
had in mind, hut agreed that anything they could 
do to prevent the departure of Marion with the 
disagreeable man who had threatened to cuff 
their ears must be all right. 

“ You, Orrey,” continued Jack, “ go to the sta- 
tion and say good-by to Marion. Try to get her 
to the carriage platform, at the back. You, Len, 
stand where you can see if Orrey succeeds ; when 
Miss Bolton is close to the back door, signal me, 
and ril do the rest.” 

The boys walked down to the station. Orrey 
entered it ; Len stood outside, where he could see 
Jack, although a person on the platform could 
not see him. I declare that Orville Hulburt is as 
honest and straightforward a lad as I ever knew, 
and he had never developed any talent for de- 
ception — or, as I prefer to call it in this case, 
for acting; but great and unexpected demands 
upon even the least clever of us sometimes de- 
velop unexpected capacity. 

The railway station at Beaver Creek is ar- 
ranged like hundreds of others at places of such 
187 


BEAVEE CEEEK FAEM 


size. On each side of the ticket booth is a wait- 
ing-room, with a door opening on one side to 
the track platform, on the other to the carriage 
platform, where the ’bns takes on and lets otf 
passengers. Orrey lounged up to the hack plat- 
form door, saw Marion and her stepfather in- 
side, the latter buying tickets and Marion seated, 
looking far from happy. She saw Orrey enter, 
and as she did so that usually honest hoy began 
a most deceitful snivelling, and carried his arm 
to his eyes as if to hide his tears. 

“ Aren’t you going to say good-by to me? ” 
he asked in an anguished voice. 

Marion hurried to his side, and as she did so 
he shuffled nearer the door he had entered. Her 
movements drew the attention of her stepfather, 
who, seeing Orrey, said crossly : 

Hurry up with your parting from that brat ; 
I hear the train coming.” 

Marion threw her arms around the boy’s neck, 
saying : 

Good-by, dear. Say good-by to Lensie and 
the Twins for me.” 

Orrey seemed unable to let her go, now that 
he had his arms around her, too, and shuffled 
188 


THE ELOPEMENT 


and twisted her nearer the door, so that she was 
forced to follow his awkward movements. At 
last Len, from the outside, saw them quite in 
the doorway, and he gave a signal. 

What happened then was so fast and exciting 
that it was not until some time afterwards the 
boys made it all out in its proper sequence. The 
automobile jumped forward from its hiding 
place as if it had started on a hundred-mile race, 
but stopped with a shock right at the door ; with 
the momentum of the machine Jack was out on 
the platform, his arm around Marion ; she was 
lifted off her feet, planted in the automobile by 
the side of Jack, and with a plunge and a snort 
the machine went flying down the road as if it 
had made no stop at all. 

You can be sure that this was not done silent- 
ly; the machine made all the noises it was 
capable of in resentment at such a sudden stop 
and start, and Mr. Marvin was attracted by the 
racket. Seeing Marion^s skirts flying behind 
her as Jack all but tossed her into her seat, Mr. 
Marvin dashed to the back platform only to 
catch a glimpse of the machine disappearing to 
the north at the rate of something like a mile a 
189 


BEAVEE CEEEK FARM 


minute. The man said something which I can- 
not repeat, and then, in his helpless rage, caught 
sight of Orrey and Len, themselves almost as 
dazed as he, and gazing with wide-open eyes 
after the cloud of dust which alone marked the 
direction of the elopement. The man dashed at 
the hoys savagely, and before they could dodge 
had boxed their ears good,’^ as Len afterwards 
described the quality of his blows. 

They darted to a safe distance and considered 
events in a council of war. 

“ Should we do something to avenge our 
wrongs? asked Orrey, shaking his fists at the 
man, who was shaking his at them and still using 
language not to be reported. 

Well,’’ said Len, “ it seems to me that we’ve 
done something already. There’s no good sense 
in making a charge when you don’t have to make 
it — unless you have the best troops.” 

This thought — that they had had their revenge 
in advance, so to say — seemed good to Orrey. 
He called out to the man: You boxed our ears, 
but we spoiled your plan. Wanted to marry her 
to a rich old man you owe a lot of money to, 
didn’t you? Yaa!” 


190 


THE ELOPEMENT 


This revelation of Orrey’s knowledge made 
the man dance with rage, and he would have 
pursued his tormentors had not the train rolled 
into the station at that moment. He hoarded the 
train, glaring back at the grinning hoys, and that 
was the last seen of him in the neighborhood of 
Beaver Creek. 

What was that about his wanting to marry 
Miss Marion to an old man! ” asked Len. 

“ Blessed if I know,^^ Orrey admitted. “ I 
heard something grandmamma and grandpa said 
about it. They haven’t had kiddies in the house 
for so long a time that they forget what papa 
and mamma are always saying when I’m around, 
about little pitchers having big ears. I heard 
them saying something about Marion and a bad 
old man, and I remembered it when I was think- 
ing what a crack on the ears we got. It made 
me so mad I remembered what I’d forgot.” 

I guess,” observed Len, that’s the reason 
we get a crack on the ears when we forget 
our lessons: to make us remember. Jiminy! 
Haven’t we got a story to tell at our homes — 
Jack and Marion run away! ” ^ 

It was, indeed, a story ; and Orrey, before they 
191 


BEAVEB CEEEK FAEM 


parted, made Len promise to stop at the Twins’ 
on his way home and tell them. 

You see,” he said, “ the Twins, being girls, 
have a lot of curiosity about a thing like this. 
Eemember Cathy telling us the other day about 
Marion and Jack being in love with each other? 
I tell you, Cathy knows something even if she 
does like cats and write poetry.” 

Filled with the importance of his message, 
Orrey raced up the driveway to the house, made 
a football plunge into the sitting room, where 
sat the Squire and his wife, and shouted in one 
word: 

“ JackandMarionseloped! ” 

“ Good ! ” shouted the Squire, jumping to his 
feet. Orrey had never heard him speak so loud, 
never saw him move so quick nor get so red, so 
he felt that his announcement was made with 
proper dramatic effect. Mrs. Hulburt did not 
say a word then ; hut seeing that the Squire was 
pleased, she smiled, and listened with breathless 
interest as Orrey told the story over and over, 
with every detail, including the cuffing he and 
Len received, and his retort about defeating the 
wicked schemes of the stepfather. Even when 
192 


THE ELOPEMENT 


they went in to dinner he had to repeat some of 
the details, as Mrs. Hnlbnrt smiled through her 
tears and the Squire repeated: “ Good hoy, 
Jack! He deserves the girl.” 

They returned to the sitting room and were 
quieted down somewhat when Mrs. Hulhurt sud- 
denly had a thought which rekindled the excite- 
ment. Cyrus Hulhurt ! ” she exclaimed. 

“ Well, well, Dorothy, what is it? ” the Squire 
asked, surprised at her unusual excitement. 

“ Goodness gracious ! Cyrus, Marion hasn’t a 
thing to wear. Where do you suppose they have 
gone to? ” 

“ Gone to Hunsden Center, of course.” 

“ Why of course? ” 

‘‘ They went north; that is the nearest town 
with a good hotel and jewelry store; Jack has 
a college friend there, and he knows the minister. 
Dr. Harkness.” 

“ That’s so,” Mrs. Hulhurt said, following the 
other’s reasoning closely. “ Your law studies 
did you some good after all.” She was silent 
a little, and then, after a glance at her husband, 
said: “ Come, Orville, you must go to bed and 
get a long sleep after all this excitement.” 

193 


BEAVER CREEK FARM 


When she had heard the hoy’s prayers she re- 
turned to the sitting room and said to the Squire : 

Have Scudder hitch up the Morgans while I 
put some things in a bundle.” 

“ What are you going to do ! ” asked her hus- 
band in surprise. 

“We are going to Hunsden Center, with some- 
thing for Marion to wear.” 

“And give them a proper wedding supper,” 
exclaimed the Squire. “ Good ! ” 


194 


CHAPTER XX 


A MOONLIGHT EXODUS 

I N spite of his fatigue, Orrey’s excitement 
would not let him sleep. He felt that he 
was going to he lonely with Jack and 
Marion away. They had joined in much of the 
plays and games lately, and were jolly compan- 
ions, and he thought of this until he became a 
little weepy and wanted to see them very much. 
He couldn’t sleep ; he wondered how far it was 
to Hunsden Center, and what excuse he could 
make for going there. The house was ver^ 
quiet, and he thought his grandparents had 
gone to bed, early as it was. He went to the 
window, and, looking out, saw that the night 
was made for just such an excursion as he had 
in mind; then he remembered what his grand- 
mother had said about Marion having nothing 
to wear, and wondered if it were not his duty to 
take her something. 


195 


BEAVEE CEEEK FAEM 


He might drive over to Hnnsden Center, hnt 
he knew that if he stole ont of the house and 
asked Scndder for a horse, he would be bundled 
back into bed for his pains. Then he went softly 
into Marion’s room, looked about, saw the old- 
fashioned gown she wore on the night of the 
party; and remembering what a pretty picture 
she made, how all the women admired her, it 
struck him that it was just the thing for a wed- 
ding dress. His mind was made up. He folded 
the gown, wrapped papers around it, dressed 
himself, and, carrying the bundle, crept out of 
the house. 

He knew a cut-off to the north road ; but it fol- 
lowed a narrow valley which would be dark and 
mysterious at night, and he debated whether 
there was anything in Cathy’s discovery of a 
witch in the deacon’s spring house. He would 
have to pass that spring house on the cut-off. 

But it meant a saving of a mile, so he plunged 
into the road, whistling “ Yankee Doodle ” as 
loud as he could, as being the tune best calcu- 
lated to frighten any evil thing in such a good 
American country. But there were strange 
things to be seen and heard in the woods. No 
196 


A MOONLIGHT EXODUS 


doubt about that. The trees, half stripped of 
their leaves, revealed objects among the branches 
nobody suspected were there when the leaves 
were full — the nests of big birds, perhaps, he 
thought to himself hopefully. As to the noises, 
they were numerous, tormentingly strange, and 
actually had a suggestion of creeping, signal- 
ing Indians. He recalled that Len had his own 
doubts as to the total disappearance of savage 
Indians from these parts. 

On one side of the road where he walked was 
a field fenced otf by pine-tree roots, a kind of 
fence peculiar to the neighborhood, and which 
Orrey had much admired by daylight ; but now, 
in moonlight, they were miserably suggestive of 
pictures by an artist he hated, named Dore. 
The roots looked like tortured people fiinging 
arms about in a way no healthy boy likes to see ; 
uncanny suggestions of animals unlike any beast 
Orrey was acquainted with — or wished to be. 
Really, this cut-off began to seem longer than the 
main road; and so beastly narrow the moon 
could get into it only in splashes which were 
worse than no moonlight at all. 

Now, what the deuce was that ! 

197 


BEAVEE CEEEK FARM 


Orrey thought he heard a new noise and 
stopped whistling to make sure. Yes, a rum- 
bling and something else. A whistle! But 
what tune was that! Yankee Doodle ! ” if ever 
that inspired tune was whistled. 

He faced the sound; saw first a horse and 
buggy, then as it drew near and passed through 
oue of the splashes of light he saw — who hut old 
Len, sitting tight on the edge of the very middle 
of the seat, with cheeks distended in the ardor of 
whistling. 

Len ! ” screamed Orrey, so glad to see him 
that he danced in the road. 

The horse was pulled hack on its haunches. 

Who’s that? ” demanded Len hoarsely. 

“ Orrey, you old dutfer you. Drive on and 
pick me up.” 

They had driven out of the valley and into the 
broader and lighter north road and talked of 
many things before Orrey asked, “ What are 
you going over to Hunsden Center fori ” 

“ It’s like this,” explained Len ; “ when I got 
home ma nearly had a fit hearing about the elope- 
ment. You’d think somebody had eloped with 
her, to hear her carry on. Then, after she’d 
198 


A MOONLIGHT EXODUS 

made me tell the whole story over about a mil- 
lion times, she all of a sudden had another fit. 
‘ That poor child hasn’t a thing to wear,’ she 
says. 

“ The more she thought of it the more of a 
pity she thought it was. She says it was no 
more than the duty of a friend to send her some 
things to wear. But who was to take them ? Pa 
was over in Butland on jury duty ; grandpa had 
the rheumatism ; ma couldn’t go because the baby 
had the whoops; and the hired men were too 
tired to get out of bed, where every blessed one 
of them was. 

So ma thought and thought, and at last she 
said: ‘ Lensie, are you afraid to go! You can 
drive the old mare, who knows the road, for she 
carried a load of greenings over to the store 
there only last week. All you’ll have to do is 
to turn her into the cut-otf, and she’ll find her 
way there.’ Well, what’s a fellow to do when 
he’s asked if he’s afraid! ” 

“ Of course,” assented Orrey, and began 
laughing. 

“What are you chuckling about!” Len de- 
manded. 


14 


199 


BEAVEE CEEEK FAEM 


Orrey explained about the contents of bis own 
bundle, and both boys giggled. 

Marion will have enough to wear, an^^way,” 
Len remarked. 

Hunsden Center was reached without further 
adventure. The boys drove to the principal 
hotel, and, entering the office, knew they were 
on the right track, for out of a room on the main 
floor came the hearty voice of the Squire, say- 
ing: 

“ Kerens to your happiness. Jack and Mar- 
ion ! ” 

“ Why, there’s grandpa ! ” exclaimed Orrey. 

Wonder how he got here*? ” 

The boys entered the room unannounced and 
were greeted with shouts of welcome. To their 
amazement they also found there Mr. and Mrs. 
Prendle and the Twins. After the first greet- 
ings, the bundles of the boys attracted general 
and curious attention. 

What you got in the bundles, kiddies ? ” 
asked Jack, and all listened for the answer which 
came in chorus : 

“ Clothes for Marion.” 

At this there was such a shout of laughter that 
200 


A MOONLIGHT EXODUS 


the boys became uncomfortable. They were the 
kind of boys who could stand any kind of criti- 
cism better than laughter, and in their discom- 
fort they shuffled and blushed until Marion ran 
to them and gave each a kiss. 

You are both little dears, she said, and 
iTs awfully kind of you.’^ 

When she learned what was in Orrey’s bundle 
she took it and disappeared. 

Then the presence of the Twins was explained. 
Len had told them of the elopement, and they, 
of course, had flown to their mother with the ex- 
citing news. After considering all the circum- 
stances, she declared it was her duty as a Chris- 
tian woman to see that Marion had some clothes 
provided for her. “ For the poor child hasn’t 
a thing to wear 1 ” she said. Mr. Prendle, agree- 
ing with his wife’s views, hitched up a team to 
help her amiable plans; and the Twins had so 
wanted to go — well, here they were. 

Sally’s eyes were afire with excitement, but 
Cathy looked half sentimental and wholly im- 
portant, as if she might be contemplating a poem 
to celebrate the romance. 

The Squire and his wife came as we have seen 

201 


BEAVEE CEEEK FAEM 


they intended, and np to date Marion had re- 
ceived four offerings of something to wear. 

When these explanations had been made 
Marion re-entered the room and, to the delight 
of everybody, wore the gown Orrey brought, and 
looked as charming a bride as ever eloped, or was 
married under usual circumstances. The com- 
pany also included Jack’s friend, who had been 
best man at the wedding, performed at the par- 
sonage by Dr. Harkness; and while they all 
waited for the supper, the best man and the 
Squire alternated in proposing toasts. 

“ Here’s to your next visit to Beaver Creek 
Farm,” the Squire now offered, when Marion 
returned and had been admired in her old-fash- 
ioned gown. 

“ My next visit? ” she said, laughing. Why, 
if the Squire and his wife ” 

“ You mean your uncle and aunt,” corrected 
Mrs. Hulburt. 

If my uncle and aunt,” said Marion, color- 
ing prettily, think they are rid of me as a 
schoolma’am, they are mistaken. I intend to 
start that district school term, and keep the 
school open until a new teacher is found.” 

202 


A MOONLIGHT EXODUS 


“ Oh, I say ! ” pleaded Jack. 

You have nothing to say about it,’^ answered 
Marion, stamping her foot at him, which made 
him roar with laughter. “ Do you think I would 
disappoint all the kiddies who expect me to open 
school? And I want to see how the football 
games come out.” 

“ Eight you are ! ” exclaimed the Squire, and 
turned to greet Dr. Harkness who, smiling and 
carrying a bundle, entered the room. 

At the sight of the bundle there was a silence 
which was almost painful ; a silence so strained 
and unexpected that it plainly embarrassed the 
good minister, who said, apologetically : 

“I assure you — good evening. Squire — I do 
not wish to intrude ; but the fact is — well, when 
my good wife understood the circumstances — 
the suddenness — she said to me that if the 
young lady would not consider it obtrusive — 
that is, I^ve come with a parcel of a few neces- 
sary garments.” 

The explosion could not be held off longer. 
There is no doubt that Sally started it. There 
came from her a low, choking gurgle, then 
uncontrollable shrieks of laughter, and the 
203 


BEAVER CREEK FARM 


others followed, to the amazement of Dr. 
Harkness. 

The Squire, even before he could command 
his voice, gently pushed the minister into a chair 
and patted his back. 

“ It’s all right, parson,” he said at last. “ Let 
me explain a few things, and you’ll understand.” 

The minister recovered his spirits when the 
situation was explained, and he accepted the 
Squire’s invitation to bring his good wife in to 
supper; so at last Jack and Marion had quite 
a party at their wedding feast. 

When the company were preparing to return 
to their various homes, Cathy, after several at- 
tempts to speak, said timidly: 

“ Miss Marion — I mean Mrs. Jack — didn’t 
you love him that day! ” 

“ What day, child? ” asked Marion, surprised. 

“ The day I saw it in your eyes, and Jack’s ; 
by the fire, when we were chestnutting.” 

Marion caught Cathy in her arms, saying : 

Of course I did — ^but I didn’t let him know.” 

“ There ! ” declared Cathy, looking around at 
Orrey, Len, and Sally in triumph, “ there, I told 
you so ! ” 


204 


CHAPTER XXI 


THE GKEAT FOOTBALL GAME 

M arion kept her word and returned 
for the football game; but she did 
not have to return to open the school. 
She sent in her place a young woman as unlike 
herself as she could be and yet be very nice : one 
who quickly won her way into favor with the 
folks of Beaver Creek Farm ; a brown, big-eyed, 
jolly little woman who had worked her way 
through the Normal School by doing everything, 
as she told Mrs. Hulburt, “ from clerking in book 
stores, to trimming hats, from designing menu 
cards, to reporting college news for the papers.’’ 
The Twins fell in love with her at a glance, and 
she won the adoration of the boys by developing 
a rampant case of football fever before the 
school had been open for a week. 

It would have been strange if she had escaped 

205 


BEAVER CREEK FARM 


the fever ; every one had it, and as the time for 
the game drew near not only the whole neighbor- 
hood but most of the county people gave them- 
selves up to the delirium of the fever with 
luxurious abandon. There was reason for this 
apart from the usual causes for partisan ex- 
citement: the Graded School of Beaver Creek 
City resented the desertion of the paying pupils 
of the District School, and there was a feeling 
that by the reopening of the District School the 
Squire had as good as said that the City School 
and its scholars were not good enough for the 
boys and girls of the Farm district. Feeling was 
turbulent; it fairly boiled and bubbled. The 
City felt that if the District School team were 
soundly beaten at football the glory of their 
school would depart, and the pupils return to 
the Graded School. Some said that the Squire 
needed a lesson, too ; that he was an autocrat, and 
was paying out of his own pocket more than the 
stated salary for a teacher brought up from a 
high-toned college, and this was a slight on the 
home-bred teachers. 

Well, with these local causes, whose potency 
to fire the heart no one can understand who has 
206 


THE FOOTBALL GAME 

not witnessed the jealousy of such a neighbor- 
hood, another cause of excitement was projected 
into the campaign which gave the approaching 
contest a county importance. This was an offer 
by letter from Jack to provide a referee for the 
game in the person of Archie Pope ! Would he 
he acceptable? Would it be acceptable for the 
County to receive a visit from the President of 
the United States! Archie Pope was without 
question the most famous man in the United 
States, ^if not in the world ; he had won the most 
renowned game in the history of his college — 
Jack had played in the game, so its points were 
known in their last details — ^won the game for 
his college, I say, by a brilliant play which 
earned him undying fame, and drove several 
thousand partisans into hoarse, chattering in- 
sanity. Would he be acceptable? Why, the 
very day after the letter was received, reporters 
from Rutland, aye from Burlington, called at 
the Farm asking about it. Orrey and Len gave 
the reporters copies of the letter, and the line- 
up of their team, and soon saw their own, 
their very own, names printed in the papers. 
This seemed to the boys incredibly good, 
207 


BEAVEE CEEEK FAEM 


though Grandmamma Hulbert had misgivings 
as to this early fame and publicity for the 
boys. 

Now it was seen that more than slight pro- 
visions for a crowd would have to be made, so 
the Squire ordered a sheep pasture well rolled, 
and it was properly gridironed by Scudder, 
working under Orrey’s and Len’s instructions, 
and the Squire even had some benches built on 
each side of the field for spectators. 

All this time the District team was hard at 
work under Alex Converse who had succeeded 
Jack as coach. Alex, who had played on the 
Burlington team and knew the game, was a 
clerk in the Squire’s bank, and so could get away 
from work, to coach. He brought the team into 
such good shape that they won more games 
than they lost with other District teams, but all 
knew that the great game with the Graded 
School would be harder than any they had so 
far played. 

Even Cathy got the fever. Wlien she heard 
that a new set of signals were to be used for the 
great game she invented a code which was found 
to be in rhyme, and while her poetry was not 
208 


THE FOOTBALL GAME 

available as signals it was beautifully adapted 
for side-line songs when set to popular music 
by the new teacher. When Alex Converse was 
not on hand Sally ran the team through the sig- 
nals, and in one way and another everyone in 
the school, boys, girls and teacher, not forgetting 
Towser, was involved in the preparations. That 
knowing dog, Towser, would stroll along the 
side lines when the eleven were playing with the 
scrubs — farm lads, graduates of the school — 
and, with ears cocked knowingly, studied the 
plays until he had as good a notion of the game 
as have most spectators. He was observed sev- 
eral times violently to wag his tail when he saw 
that what Orrey was trying to do was done. As 
to Scudder, he went about muttering rules of the 
game, having set himself the awful task of learn- 
ing them from a printed copy Orrey gave him ; 
and he even debated the propriety of wearing 
his new clothes on the eventful day. He was 
much excited about the coming of Archie Pope, 
because, excepting a candidate for Congress 
(who was defeated), Scudder had never seen a 
national hero, and the prospect of seeing the 
greatest living one, of being associated with him, 
209 


BEAVER CREEK FARM 


in a way, thrilled his waking hours and gilded 
his dreams. 

At last, in company with Jack and Marion, 
Pope arrived, and was driven from the station 
to the Farm by Scudder, who was speechless 
with the excitement and the wonder of finding 
the hero a young man who laughed and blushed 
easily, and hid all appearance of greatness in an 
interest in ordinary things, the Morgans, the 
state of the weather and — this nearly fioored 
Scudder — the prospect of the good things to eat 
which Jack had promised they would have when 
they reached the Farm. That was Friday after- 
noon, and the team was to be put through final 
practice under Jack’s coaching. Len was in- 
vited to the Farm to lunch and to meet the great 
man, and he made a little speech when he was 
introduced (Cathy wrote it, and Orrey had re- 
hearsed him in it) but his greatest triumph came 
when Jack called Mr. Pope’s attention to Len’s 
refusal to eat a second piece of pie, and the great 
man said, as affably as possible, “Well done. 
Severance! Why, I’d break training any day 
for a second piece of this pie, and as for a third 
piece, I’d break an engagement with the dentist.” 

210 


THE FOOTBALL GAME 


Then, indeed, Len felt the reward of his Spartan 
self-denial. 

The morning of the game dawned bright and 
cool, for which prayers of thanks were returned, 
for in that country it can snow in early Novem- 
ber with the greatest ease. A perfect football 
day, and it had its etfect on the size of the crowd. 
People came from the ends of the county; the 
neighborhood turned out to a man, woman, and 
child, of course, and by noon a hundred wagons 
had deposited loads of spectators who were eat- 
ing lunches about the field, for the game was to 
begin early for the benefit of those who had 
trains to catch. Jack had the team out early for 
the last signal polishing, and then took them all 
into the house to see some new parlor magic he 
had brought along. This was to ease up the 
mental tension which had reached a state when a 
break of some kind was threatened, if skillful 
preventives were not applied. The Graded 
School team arrived in a band wagon, followed 
by fellow pupils on foot, with flags, horns, 
badges, and all the imposing appendages befit- 
ting such an event. Aside from the players 
there were only about a dozen scholars in the 
211 


BEAVER CREEK FARM 


District School, but these, with some graduates, 
marshalled, led and inspired by Sally, made a 
prodigious noise, and never flagged in enthusi- 
asm from the first appearance of their team to 
the final whistle. 

Who is to tell the story of that game? Not 
this present chronicler; and until the neighbor- 
hood develops its epic poet none shall do it 
justice. There were matrons enough present to 
fill all the benches, hut no more seats were re- 
quired, for no man or child there hut surged 
up and down the lines in noisy excitement during 
every minute of play. The District had no sub- 
stitutes, for the hoys not in uniform were 
younger than Orrey and Len, and it was even 
thought that the latter two would be the weak 
points in the game, for they were younger than 
the youngest of the opposition. Sally, to be 
sure, assured Jack that if any of our men ” 
were disabled she herself would go into the 
game. When Pope walked out on the field and 
called the rival captains and coaches to him for 
that mysterious preliminary talk, the spectators 
gazed at him with an interest which drove even 
thoughts of a polite welcome out of their minds 
212 


THE FOOTBALL GAME 


until the new teacher told Sally to give Pope 
the school cheer. This she did ; then the Graded 
school cheer followed, other spectators clapped 
their hands, and the great man laughingly raised 
his cap and bowed. Then the reporters went up 
boldly to him while the spectators wondered at 
their temerity, asked some questions which he 
answered good-naturedly, and all agreed that 
for a very great hero he was a most gracious 
person. At last Pope said to the two coaches : 
‘‘‘ Better bring those kids out ; they^ll get rattled 
if they’re kept in their uniforms too long with- 
out action.” Then followed the preliminary 
warming up to the accompaniment of piping 
cheers, and at this, Towser, on a leash held by 
Marion began to show a peculiar interest. He 
searched out Orrey with his calm, brown eyes 
and watched him intently. If he already had 
any dogly inkling of his famous part in the game 
he gave no sign of it. 

Scudder heard compliments on the brightness 
and regularity of his whitewash lines, but he 
did not heed them. He was more excited — he 
acknowledged the fact to himself — than ever 
before in his life except in his battle with the 
213 


BEAVER CREEK FARM 


kidnappers, for it seemed to him that he simply 
couldn’t stand it to see Orrey’s side lose, yet he 
couldn’t see how they were to win against bigger 
players. Pope had spoken to him several times, 
to the increase of his excitement, and now gave 
him his sweater to hold in the most friendly 
manner. But why attempt to translate to cold 
type the varying emotions which overflow from 
the heart to the vocal chords on such an occasion? 
The game has to begin, and at last the kick-off 
put the ball into play. 

At the end of the first half the score stood 
five points in favor of the graded school team, 
and the exultantly shrill cries of their partisans 
echoed from the hills. After Jack had seen that 
Alex and Scudder were giving such attention 
to his boys in their dressing tent, as they needed, 
he went to the opponents’ coach, a butcher in the 
town, who had bet on his team with confident 
liberality, and said to him, “ See here, Baxter, 
your side made most of their gains by the kind 
of play we ought not to have in a game like this.” 

Didn’t hear the referee make any kick,” re- 
plied Baxter with a grin. 

The referee doesn’t know as well as I do 
214 


THE FOOTBALL GAME 


what kind of advice youVe given your players 
in a game you’ve bet on,” said Jack, and he’s 
not looking for rough work as closely as I am.” 

“ Oh, we ain’t playing checkers,” suggested 
Baxter. 

No,” admitted Jack. But we are playing 
football; and I’ve noticed that all the rough 
work has been done by certain of your players 
just after you’ve spoken or signaled to them. 
I want you to know that I’m watching, that’s all.” 

Baxter shrugged his shoulders and walked 
away; hut he seemed to heed Jack’s warning, for 
a time at least, because there was no further 
scoring until the second half was drawing to a 
close, when the Districts gained two points by a 
safety they forced their opponents to make. 
Then Sally led a wild cry for a touchdown — 
just one — 

Oh, give us a touchdown, fellows! 

A touchdown, brave boys, just one! ” 

for that would put the Districts ahead. 

After the kick from safety the farmer lads 
rushed the ball down the field again, and were 
making good gains until they lost the hall foi- 
ls 215 


BEAVER CREEK FARM 


lowing some rough work; and then one of the 
District boys limped painfully, and looked ap- 
pealingly at the referee, who only shook his head, 
as if answering that he had seen nothing to war- 
rant exercise of his authority. But Jack went to 
Mr. Pope and said: 

Archie, that boy failed to hold the ball be- 
cause he’d got the knee, and was in such pain 
that he ” 

didn’t see anything. Jack,” interrupted 
Pope, but he added, “he looked like a player 
who’d been injured. I’ll admit, but I saw nothing 
— my view was obstructed.” 

Baxter nodded approval to the big boy who 
had done his rough work so skillfully as not 
to be discovered, although they knew the referee 
was on the lookout. The ball was regained 
when there was less than three minutes left of 
the half, and with the Districts twenty yards 
from the goal. Orrey began the play which sent 
his partisans into hysterics by a run which was 
stopped only when he was thrown not five feet 
from the goal. 

Towser was whining and pulling at his leash. 
“ Better let me take him,” Scudder said, going to 
216 


THE FOOTBALL GAME 


where Marion held the dog, nnconscions of his 
nervousness in her own. She yielded the leash 
and Scudder walked around behind the crowd 
to the space just hack of the enemy’s goal. No 
one seemed to notice him. 

It was through the center or nothing, now, 
and Orrey, because of his light weight and quick- 
ness, was sent in to go through or under or over 
where the whole desperate force of his side was 
boring for glory and victory. It wasn’t much of 
a hole, hut the line in front wavered and 
bent hack, and Orrey squirmed into it with a 
knowledge somewhere in his whirling brain that 
the goal was less than his own length away. 
Hugging the precious hall, bent nearly double 
hut not quite down, he felt a comfortable some- 
thing under an arm pit ramming him forward — 
that was Len’s head — next he nearly lost con- 
sciousness and did lose all his breath because of 
a kick in his side ; and then — oh, most wonder- 
ful! — he felt himself pulled ahead, but how he 
did not know. Then came the last frantic in- 
crease of the shouts from his side when it seemed 
that there could be no increase, and he hoped he’d 
made a touchdown. Then he didn’t know any- 
217 


BEAVER CREEK FARM 


tMng else until the pile of bodies over him being 
slowly untangled and removed he heard Pope 
say the blessed word “ Touchdown,” and a few 
seconds later heard the final whistle sound. 
Then he was on top of Jack’s shoulders, the 
school children dervishing around him with 
frantic shrieks of victory. 

That’s a pretty intelligent dog,” Pope said 
to Scudder, finding him and Towser on one side 
of the field as the crowd was breaking up. 

Yes, sir : knows ’most as much as most folks 
and quite a lot more than some.” 

“ And that’s a stout little jacket Orrey wore, 
wasn’t it? ” 

“ Stouter than most of ’em,” Scudder replied. 

His father had it made special for him down in 
York.” 

Mr. Pope eyed Scudder for a few seconds as 
if disposed to say something more, and Scudder 
waited without a wink for what he might say, 
but the great man turned away without another 
word, and Scudder patted Towser’s head affec- 
tionately. 

When Scudder went around the field to the 
space behind the enemy’s goal, he talked to 
218 


THE FOOTBALL GAME 


Towser, who listened attentively while keeping 
his eyes on Orrey. They were not more than 
three feet away when Orrey was squirming for 
those last few inches, and although only the 
point of one of the hoy’s shoulders was in sight 
through the snarl of players the dog recognized 
it. Scudder saw Orrey kicked, saw him collapse 
— then he slipped the leash, and Towser darted 
forward like a flash and fastened his teeth in 
Orrey’s jacket, over a shoulder. Come away, 
you rascal ! ” shouted Scudder loudly, and he 
took hold of Towser’s hind legs and pulled until 
the hound became a taut hawser between the 
stout jacket and Scudder’s powerful arms. Then 
Scudder quickly commanded the dog to loose his 
grip, the dog obeyed, and they strolled quietly 
away. The whole action took less than a couple 
of seconds, and in the general frenzy no one 
seemed to realize that anything had happened 
except that Scudder had prevented the dog from 
mixing up in the game. 

But Mr. Pope saw what really did happen. 
He was a conscientious man: he had seen a 
Graded School player, after a signal from Bax- 
ter, kick Orrey in a manner which should have 
219 


BEAVER CREEK FARM 


stopped that young gentleman’s progress over 
the goal lines ; so he debated whether he should 
deny the touchdown because of the help he had 
seen Towser, plus Scudder, give Orrey. He 
concluded that if Orrey had not been kicked he 
would have squirmed the ball across the line 
without Towser’s help, so the help was merely 
a set-otf. This satisfied his conscience; yet it 
was a comfort to him, that, besides himself, only 
the dog and one man knew the whole story, and 
that the man was just as likely to tell the story 
as was the dog. 


220 


CHAPTER XXII 


CLOSING EXERCISES 

S NOW fell soon after the great football 
game, and then Scudder told Orrey and 
Len that he guessed it was about time to 
go out with the guns Orrey’s father had sent 
the boys as a reward for their efforts in the 
game. Nothing that had happened since their 
chumship began so pleased the boys : to shoot a 
gun is naturally and properly the ambition of 
every healthy boy, and to shoot it at fair game 
is the height of that ambition; and now the 
snow promised a rabbit hunt. 

“ Towser isnT what you’d call a rabbit dog,” 
explained Scudder, ‘‘ but that doesn’t make any 
difference to Towser, for he doesn’t know that 
he isn’t a rabbit dog, so he just goes about it like 
he was bred and trained for the work. I reckon 
that’s because he’s a Yankee dog. The Yankees, 
221 


BEAVEE CEEEK FAKM 


in that little difference the Squire tells about, 
weren’t bred nor trained for soldiers, but nobody 
they had confidence in told ’em so, and they just 
naturally went out and fit like they’d been sol- 
diering all their lives. They didn’t know they 
weren’t soldier men, so it made no difference — 
except to the fellows they fit with.” 

Towser’s possible shortcomings did not trouble 
the boys so much as the gun Scudder brought 
forth for his own use. Neither lad had ever seen 
a gun loaded at the muzzle, and they had doubt 
if Scudder' s gun could be fired, so peculiar and 
hidden was the manner of its loading. 

That’s correct,” admitted Scudder. “ This 
gun isn’t like the ones everybody has these days, 
but I can’t get rid of a notion that it’ll shoot 
straight because that’s the way she’s shot for me 
and pa and grandpa. Had a most singular thing 
happen with this gun once : there was a horned 
owl which, as everybody knows, has an appetite 
for chicken which is nothing less than a sin — in 
an owl. Well, one day that owl was fast asleep 
on a limb of a tree dreaming about two or three 
helpings of chicken he’d had without so much as 
saying, ‘ Thank you, ma’am,’ the evening before, 
222 


CLOSING EXERCISES 

and I chances to see him when I had this old gun 
along. So I np and I aimed at the owl, hut just 
then he opened his eyes and saw me. Don^t you 
ever believe a man who tells you that owls can’t 
see in the daytime. They can, only they look so 
wise that folks believe they must be asleep even 
with their eyes wide open. It comes from judg- 

V 

ing animals from folks ; folks who look uncom- 
mon wise mostly can’t see an inch beyond their 
noses — even short noses. Well, I never could 
abide to shoot anything which was looking at 
me ; it seems too unfriendly. So I walked around 
the tree, keeping my gun ready to shoot when I 
should get out of the owl’s sight. Maybe you 
never tried to do that. You’d never believe it 
unless you saw it, or I told you, that an owl keeps 
turning its head if anything it wants to see goes 
around it in a circle, and that owl kept turning 
and turning its head — like as not curious to see 
this old gun — until it made me dizzy. But I kept 
on walking around and around, gun pointed at 
owl and owl looking at gun. After a spell I no- 
ticed the owl’s neck getting twisty-tight like a rag 
when you wring the water out of it, and I said to 
myself that it must be mighty uncomfortable 
223 


BEAVEE CEEEK FAEM 


for the owl, but I could stand it if he could, and I 
kept a-walking around and around that tree un- 
til Mr. Owl dropped down at my feet with his 
neck wrung as slick as a hired man wrings a 
chicken’s neck when the hired girl sends him out 
to get one for dinner.” 

With such stories of the hunt the hoys started 
out over the snow which was not deep, but lay 
in an even blanket of sparkling silver and blue 
and crimson in sunshine or shadow ; and the boys 
found out that if you only look for them a field 
of snow will show not only these but many other 
colors — nearly everything but white. 

This is not to be a hunting story, because noth- 
ing was killed. Mrs. Hulburt afterwards told 
the boys that Scudder was never known to kill 
any bird or beast not listed as a pest or an in- 
curable tliief. Eabbits and squirrels he especially 
disliked to have killed, so the lads had only the 
fun of a long tramp through the snowy fields and 
woods, with some practice at targets which Scud- 
der said could be hit without a wish in the heart 
of the gunner that he had missed. 

At about this time the billboards of Beaver 
Creek City announced the coming of a large and 
224 


CLOSING EXERCISES 

brilliant company of metropolitan players in 
an unrivalled production of the classic and moral 
drama, “Uncle Tom's Cabin," and Orrey got 
his grandmother's consent to invite Len and the 
Twins to see the play, Scudder to go along as 
escort. His young guests had never been to a 
theatre and were delighted at the prospect, the 
more so because the Pond having frozen over, 
Sally, inspired by the billboard pictures, often 
escaped from the cruel bloodhounds (amiably 
played by Towser, except that he always caught 
Sally Eliza) and was pursued by Haley, Andy 
and Sam, capably played by Orrey, Len and 
Cathy. Sally, as Eliza, wanted to carry Cathy's 
cat as a substitute for the child, preferring it to 
a rag doll, but that discreet animal refused to 
leave the warm arms of Cathy, and with good 
sense, too, as the ice was dangerously thin. This 
taste of the drama made the children eager to 
see the real metropolitan company of stars, and 
they were early on hand in front seats with 
Scudder by their side, and Towser under the 
seats. Towser was not supposed to be there. 
He had followed the party in their sleigh ride 
from the Farm, but being refused admittance 
225 


BEAVER CREEK FARM 

at the door had found a side entrance which he 
used easily, as it was a swinging-door such as 
he opened himself at the Farm when he wanted 
to enter the kitchen to tell the cook that it was 
his dinner hour. He scented out his party and 
crawled under the seats, seeming to threaten 
no trouble. The metropolitan company ap- 
peared to have lost some of its members, for 
many parts were played by each actor (only 
Orrey discovered this) but the children were 
entranced by the acting from the first. Towser, 
however, began soon to be restless, and tried 
to crawl out of his hiding place until Orrey 
placed both feet on him and held him down. 
What had aroused his interest was soon ap- 
parent to all ; the distant baying of hounds was 
heard, and then Towser whined and struggled 
until Orrey reached down and held him by 
his collar. He wished Scudder’s strong hand 
was in charge of the dog, but Scudder in open- 
mouthed rapture was unmindful of all but the 
stirring events on the stage. Then came the 
great scene, the escape and pursuit of Eliza. 
Cathy was panting with excitement, and whisper- 
ing the lines out of the book ; 

226 


-CLOSING EXERCISES 


“ The huge green fragment of ice on which 
she alighted pitched and creaked as her weight 
came upon it, but she stayed there but a mo- 
ment. With wild cries and desperate energy 
she leaped to another and still another cake — 
stumbling — leaping — slipping — springing up- 
ward again.” 

Now for the dogs ! Cathy, of course, knew of 
the dogs only from the billboard pictures, as 
they were thoughtlessly left out of the book ac- 
count of the escape, and she was trembling for 
Eliza who, instead of continuing her flight over 
the wobbly blocks of stage ice, stood unsteadily 
on one in the very center of the stage, looking 
over her shoulder with anguished eyes while 
Haley was arranging the leash of the dogs to 
hold them, straining and yelping, as Eliza rocked 
periously on her ice refuge. Cathy gasped and 
caught at Orrey who turned to see what her 
troubles were and forgot for a moment — a fatal 
moment — about Towser. That usually calm ani- 
mal was as excited as Cathy; wondering, no 
doubt — for he had not yet seen the stage — ^what 
all the barking was about, and wanting to take 
a paw in the affair if it deserved a dog’s atten- 
227 


BEAVEE CREEK FARM 


tion. Feeling Orrey’s hand leave his collar 
Towser rose, took one look at the stage, then 
bounded over the amazed orchestra (composed 
of a pianist, who had earlier taken in the tickets 
at the door) and was fairly on the stage. Now 
his duty was clear: here was a lady in distress 
pursued by two evil-looking dogs, and Towser 
hesitated not a second. Haley, seeing a new and 
strange dog in the cast, loosed the leash and fled, 
and the stage dogs sprang forward in answer 
to TowseFs challenge. For a moment the audi- 
ence supposed this was a new and delightful 
surprise in dramatic realism, and cheered wildly 
as Eliza, dropping her rag baby, scurried as well 
as she could over the ice to the sheltering wings. 
Haley and two or three other players appeared 
and began to shower blows on Towser. This 
brought more complications : Scudder rose and 
called out loudly : 

Hey ! you fellows leave that dog alone. 
There’s two against him already.” 

This gave the audience a real idea of what was 
going on, and at once there was an uproar; 
women screamed and men demanded that all 
keep their seats, themselves, however, crowding 
228 


CLOSING EXERCISES 


forward to see the dog fight — better to them 
than any play acting. 

Orrey, at the sight of Towser’s first stage ap- 
pearance, was convulsed with laughter, hut see- 
ing his faithful friend attacked by unequal odds, 
he, too, climbed over the piano and dashed into 
the thick of the battle, running between the blocks 
of ice. Scudder sprang after him, and as Orrey 
held Towser Scudder re-leashed the stage dogs 
and pulled them back. At this point some one 
gave the signal to lower the curtain, and in a 
moment more the intruders found themselves 
shut off from the audience and surrounded by 
angry and threatening actors. The most threaten- 
ing of all was Little Eva, who loudly demanded 
that the intruders be turned over to the police, 
asserting indignantly, that in twenty years’ ex- 
perience on the stage she had never been so af- 
fronted and frightened. Scudder found the man 
in charge and explained matters a little, so that 
he called off the angry players, telling them that 
the handsome young gentleman (Orrey) was the 
grandson of the owner of the hall, who would 
doubtless remit the rent in consideration of the 
annoyance the players had suffered; and, any- 
229 


BEAVEE CEEEK FAEM 


way, the adventure properly advertised in ad- 
vance of their future appearances, would add 
to the drawing power of the show. Little Eva, 
having caught Orrey’s name, now smiled sweetly 
upon him, saying that she would so much like a 
pointer in Wall Street, and perhaps Orrey might 
speak to his papa about it. Scudder took Tow- 
ser to the stables and fastened him there ; Orrey 
returned to his seat, crimson hut happy, and the 
performance went on to the close after a pretty 
speech by the leading man in which he excused 
Towser from any malicious intention. 

Orrey’s parents had fixed the limit of his visit 
at the closing exercises of the school term, and 
these exercises came to he looked upon by his 
young friends in the nature of a good-by to him. 
While he looked forward with lively satisfaction 
to his return home, he did not like the notion 
of parting from his friends ; Len, particularly, 
had become a well-liked chum, and he wondered 
how he would get along without him. He told 
Len he should miss him like the dickens in the 
city, and then Len asked what he had often 
wanted to: 


230 


CLOSING EXERCISES 


“ What do fellows do in New York for fun? ’’ 
Well,” replied Orrey after a thoughtful 
pause, “ we don’t exactly have fun like our fun 
here — no Indians, no Pond, no coasting. Of 
course there’s a lot of things for grown-ups and 
girls, hut for fellows it’s mostly a beastly bore. 
There are two good things, though,” he added, 
as he recalled them. “ There’s the Aquarium at 
the Battery, and the Natural History Museum 
in the Park. At the museum they have Eskimo 
— stutfed, you know — ^with their houses and ca- 
noes and weapons and all sorts of corking things. 
Then there are buffalo — stuffed, of course — hut 
they are walking across the boundless plains in- 
side a glass hoijse with rattlesnakes and prairie 
dogs as natural as life. And there’s a whale 
hung up so’s you can see him top and bottom. 
They are about the only things that are much 
good for a fellow to see. You go to matinees, 
but they are always the ones the governess 
wants to see with lords and dukes and a lot of 
silly parlor chatter — not even so good as our 
Uncle Tom. Oh, yes, you go to lunch with dad 
downtown sometimes, and that’s not so bad be- 
cause his ojBfices are away up in the skyscrapers 
16 231 


BEAVER CREEK FARM 


where you can see the ships in both rivers. I 
forgot the theatre circus when the clown fishes 
a bull pup out of the water, and he dives into 
the water — the clown does — and never conies 
up out of it, but chases in from somewhere else. 
Lots of fairies and things duck under the water 
and stop there as long as they like — pretty good 
fun, too — and 

At the sound of Len’s fast breathing Orrey 
stopped his careless recital of the few things in 
city life worth mentioning, and looking at Len 
asked: “Whafs the matter, old chap I Your 
eyes are popping out.” 

After a long talk such as boys have when they 
are out of hearing of grown-ups, Orrey learned 
that the things he had so indifferently recalled 
had fired Len’s imagination as no story out of a 
book could have done. Then Orrey wrote to his 
mother a letter, a part of which read: 

“ I wish you would write to Len^s father and mother and 
ask if he can’t come home with me for the vacation. He’s the 
best fellow I ever knew, and we are going to college together 
to learn football right, and then we’re going to farm it to- 
gether, mostly butter and pigs. He never saw a place bigger 
than Rutland and can’t understand about going twenty floors 
up to Dad’s office because he never saw an elevator nor a buf- 

232 


CLOSING EXERCISES 


falo nor an aquarium. So, please, I’d like to have him visit 
us, and Scudder can come for him, though he isn’t afraid to 
travel alone.” 

The result of this was that it became known at 
school that Len was to visit New York. From 
that moment he became a being apart from the 
others in school; was looked upon and treated 
as one who was not wholly of their world, an 
elected one set aside from the daily run of things. 
Len himself was in a daze from which no effort 
of Miss King, the new teacher, could rouse him. 
She could not even count upon his services in the 
exercises, for he could, not learn the shortest part 
in the play they were to perfo*rm. 

The district school was on a knoll at the cross- 
ing of two roads, and no man or woman living 
could remember when the building did not look 
old and weather-beaten. It was approached by 
a crescent-shaped path whose ends led to the two 
roads, and before the door were steps made from 
flour-mill grindstones, and only owls had inhab- 
ited the mill as long as anyone could remember. 
There had been occasional repairs to the clap- 
board side and shingle roof of the schoolhouse, 
but the hewn rafters and board walls of the in- 
233 


BEAVEE CEEEK FAEM 


terior were as they had been many generations 
agone. 

On closing exercises day the one room of the 
schoolhonse was crowded, children close np to 
the platform, elders back to the very door, in- 
clined to he critical of the new-fangled teacher 
who had thrown away all the slates as nnhealth- 
ful ; hut they agreed that the evergreens and red 
berries decorated the old rafters better than the 
colored paper which was the chief reliance in 
such matters in their days. The new teacher had 
her triumph early when she sat down at the little 
organ and announced that the exercises would 
begin with the singing of ‘ The Star-Spangled 
Banner,’ all joining in, if you please.” The song, 
had scarcely begun before it stopped; the new 
teacher rose and, looking over at the elders as 
severely as she could out of jolly brown eyes, 
said, “ I notice that few of our visitors are sing- 
ing : those who are not cannot be patriotic, so I 
must request them to go outside until the song 
is finished.” 

After an amazed silence a cheer started from 
back near the door where Scudder sat, then 
some hand clapping, then general cheering and 
234 


CLOSING EXERCISES 


laughter, with cries of Good for you, teacher ! 
Start again, and wehl all join in.’^ 

And they did, with such a hurst of emo- 
tion that Grandpa Prendle rose at the end of the 
song and said to Miss King, You may he new- 
fangled, Miss, hut youVe some mighty good old- 
fashioned ideas, and I thank you for reminding 
us of one of them.” 

After that the exercises went with a vim, ex- 
cept as to Orrey’s part. He was to make the 
closing speech, a prophecy of the lives of the chil- 
dren, written by Miss King. When Orrey had 
made his bow some one started hand clapping. 
Nothing like that had happened until after each 
exercise, and Orrey was so flustered when all the 
pupils took up the applause that he delivered 
his speech in a very shaky voice. 

On the next day the boys left for New York. 
The big sleigh was loaded with their trunks, and 
the Twins were invited to ride to the station with 
the travelers, Towser running along behind, 
never turning to the right or left even when the 
road was crossed by an invitingly fresh scent 
of rabbits. The children had much to talk about 
and chatted gayly all the way to the station, hut 
235 


BEAVEE CREEK FARM 


Scudder was unusually silent. It was not until 
the train rolled up that he said : 

“ Good-by, Orrey. You’ll be back again — in 
the spring ? ” 

Yes, in the spring,” answered Orrey, con- 
fidently. “ Good-by, till then.” 


( 1 ) 


THE END 





I 


» 




i 


V 



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BY KATE DICKINSON SWEETSER. 

Micky of the Alley and Other Youngsters. 

With Illustrations by George Alfred Williams. i2mo. 
Cloth, $1.25. 

A collection of tales for children of ten to twelve years of age. The sub- 
jects are widely varied and contain much to fascinate. 

BY GABRIELLE E. JACKSON 

Three Graces. 

Illustrated in Colors by C. M. Relyea. i2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 

A stoiy for girls of boarding-school life, full of incident and wholesome 
characterization, with delightfully cozy scenes of indoor enjoyment and an 
exciting description of a Hallowe’en escapade. The Three Graces are inter- 
esting girls who may count upon finding among youthful readers many who 
will follow their school experiences with a sense of making new friends. 


D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK 


BY ROBERT W. CHAMBERS* 


CHILDREN'S BOOKS. 
Garden-Land. 

Mountain-Land. 

Forest-Land. 

Uniform style. Each with a pictorial cover 
and eight full-page Illustrations and many 
Sketches. Each $1.50 net; postage additional. 

A charming series of stories relating the adven- 
tures of a little boy and girl, Peter and Geraldine, 
out in the garden, in the forest and 'way up on a 
big mountain. They learn the strange secrets of 
all kinds of wild things from a tiny butterfly to a 
Canada Lynx. The animals and insects they meet 
tell them lots of interesting things about nature 
and the wild life of the mountain, forest and garden. 
The “Voice of the Forest” whispers to them and 
even the big mountain itself speaks to them. The 
stories fill the reader, be he young or old, with a 
feeling of the fresh outdoors, healthy, kindly, happy 
thoughts, and pure ideas. The illustrations in color 
by prominent artists add much to the attractiveness 
of the volumes. 

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. 


A UNIQUE BOOK. 


** For children^ parents^ teachers^ and all who are interested 
in the psychology of childhood.'" 

The Book of Knight and Barbara. 

By David Starr Jordan. Illustrated. i2mo. 
Cloth, #1.50. 

The curious and fascinadng tales and pictures of this unique 
book are introduced by Dr. Jordan with the following preface : 

The only apology the author can make in this case is that he 
never meant to do it. He had told his own children many 
stories of many kinds, some original, some imitative, some traves- 
ties of the work of real story-tellers. Two students of the de- 
partment of education in the Stanford University — Mrs. Louise 
Maitland, of San Jose, and Miss Harriet Hawley, of Boston — 
asked him to repeat these stories before other children. Miss 
Hawley, as a stenographer, took them down for future reference, 
and while the author was absent on the Bering Sea Commission 
of 1896 she wrote them out in full, thus forming the material 
of this book. Copies of the stories were placed by Mrs. Mait- 
land in the hands of hundreds of children. These drew illus- 
trative pictures, after their fashion ; and from the multitude 
offered, Mrs. Maitland chose those which are here reproduced. 
The scenes in the stories were also subjected to the criticisms 
of the children, and in many cases amended to meet their sug- 
gestions. These pictures made by the children have been found 
to interest deeply other children, a fact which gives them a 
definite value as original documents in the study of the workings 
of the child-mind. At the end of the volume are added a few 
true stories of birds and of beasts, told to a different audience. 
With these are a few drawings by university students, which are 
intended to assist the imagination of child- readers.” 


D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. 


By C C HOTCHKISS* 


The Land Hero of 1812. 

Illustrated by B. West Clinedinst. i2mo. Cloth, 
I1.25. 

Mr. Hotchkiss, who is well known through his stories for grown-ups, has 
chosen as the subject of his first book for boys the life of Andrew Jackson. 
While the facts of history are presented, the author adroitly constructed his 
story upon the most picturesque incidents of Jackson’s varied career. The 
book is therefore instructive as well as interesting. , 


By KIRK MUNROE* 


The Outcast Warrior. 

Illustrated. i2mo. Ornamental Cloth, fi.50. 

This is a boys’ story of a white man turned Indian and his adventures in 
the Western wilderness He distinguishes himself as a warrior and is known 
as Wicasta, the Man Chief of the Aricarees. He marries Koda, a Sioux 
captive, and becomes the father of Hanana (Morning Light). 

By OTTILIE A. LILJENCRANTZ. 


The Vinland Champions. 

Illustrated by the Kinneys. i2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 

A rousing good boys’ book with plenty of dash and go and a glimpse of 
the wild, free life of the Vikings in it. Every school-boy has heard of the 
vague rumor that the Norsemen discovered America before Christopher Co- 
lumbus. The story tells of the party of one hundred Icelanders who went and 
dwelt there and called it the “ Peace Land.” 


By JULIE M. LIPPMANN. 


Every-Day Girls. 

Illustrated in colors. 


T2nio. Cloth, $1.50. 


The best book for girls that has appeared in years ; it has all the charm 
and sweetness that is contained in “Little Women.” It is not merely a 
chronicle of events, however, but teaches a valuable lesson. The girls are 
sweet and lovely and quarrelsome and impulsive, just as every-day g^rls are. 
They have a hard and exciting time, and they fight a battle and win it. It is 
a charming, wholesome book. 


D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK 


STORIES FOR YOUNG READERS- 


Comrades Three. 

,By William R. A. Wilson, author of Rose of 
Normandy.” Illustrated in Color. Cloth, $1.50. 

A story of the adventures of three comrades in the new France in Canada. 
Two orphan boys come from old France to live with their uncle in Quebec. 
Their uncle turns out to be a very bad man who is parrying on secret intrigues 
with the British. When the boys observe their uncle’s mysterious manner, 
and he learns of their suspicions of him, he has them kidnapped by an Indian. 
Then follow many exciting adventures. 


The King’s Scouts. 

By William R. A. Wilson. Illustrated in Color. $1.50. 

A sequel to “Comrades Three,” with its heroes, respectively nineteen, 
sixteen, and thirteen years old. The scene is the St. Lawrence River and the 
Great Lakes in the early days when the French, the British, the Indians, and 
the wild anim*ds kept adventures plentiful and brisk. 


Running the Gantlet. 

By Jesse Peabody Frothingham. Illustrated. $1.50. 

This story relates the exploits of a famous hero of the Civil War, Lieu- 
tenant William Barker Cushing, the daring naval officer who blew up the 
Confederate ironclad “ Albemarle” in the Roanoke River. Cushing’s life was 
replete with exciting experiences, and the story of his many escapades, in 
which pluck and luck never deserted him, is told here in a way that will fasci- 
nate boy readers. 


The Exploits of Myles Standish. 

By Henry Johnson (Muirhead Robertson), author of 
“From Scrooby to Plymouth Rock,” etc. Illustrated. 
Cloth, $1.50. 

The story of “The Exploits of Myles Standish” throws a clearer light 
upon a heroic figure in our earliest history, and it has an epic quality which 
will appeal to old and young. While the facts of history are presented, the 
author has adroitly reconstructed the little-known earlier years of Standish’s 
life, basing his imaginative work upon the probabilities of history. 


D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK 


JUVENILES. 


The Yellow Cat. 

By Grace Van R. Dwight. Twelve full- 
page Illustrations in Colors. Square 8vo. Pic- 
torial Cover, $1.50 net. 

This is a beautifully illustrated account of the 
doings and sayings of the rabbit and dollies — and 
the yellow cat after you have gone to bed at night. 
The rabbits are afraid of the yellow cat, and the 
dollies live in a doll’s house and ride around in a 
doll’s automobile. The book also tells of the flowers 
and their woes and ambitions, and just what the 
firefly does and why he does it. It tells about Santa 
Claus and his wife and how they found the yellow 
cat in the barn because Santa Claus forgot to bring 
it on his first trip and has to go back for it, and it 
was too light by then to take it up to the house. 

“ Of one thing we may be assured : that every well- 
ordered child will be delighted with this original and 
charming picture book, in which writer and illustrator have 
collaborated to such good purpose. A word should be 
added for the excellence of the reproductions in colors.” 

— New York Evening Sun, 

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. 


APPLETONS' SUPPLEMENTARY READERS- 


Uncle Robert's Geography, 

By the late Francis W. Parker and Nellie 
L. Helm. A Series of Geographical Readers 
for Supplementary Use. Four volumes. Illus- 
trated. 1 2 mo. Cloth. 

1. Playtime and Seedtime 32 cents# 

2. On the Farm 42 ** 

3. Uncle Robert’s Visit 50 ** 

4. A River Journey 60 " 

Uncle Robert teaches children how to read aright the great book 
of Nature. He makes study a pleasure. He teaches geography in the 
right way. He makes rural life and occupations attractive. He has a 
deep and loving sympathy with child-life. He believes in the educa- 
tion that strengthens the body as well as the mind. He tells children 
instructive stories to arouse their imaginations and stimulate their 
observing powers. He believes that every normal child may be made 
useful in the world. He has a boundless faith in human progress, and 
finds his greatest hopes in childhood and its possibilities. 

These extraordinarily suggestive little books by the late 
Colonel Parker— one of the most far=sighted students of 
child -life of our day— have approved themselves to thousands 
of primary teachers. They form one of the few successful 
attempts to incorporate that which Is close by nature to 
child perception into the very warp and woof of the child 
mind. They give an intelligible meaning and vitality to 
the round of experiences that come to all normal children in 
our land. 


D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. 












